Thin Ice

by Renée Jaggér

  Chapter Ten

  Ronan introduced me to his driver. It was a thirty-minute drive to the airport beyond the outer belt. That sounded like it would be enough time for me to start going through the book Ronan had handed me, but I decided the time would be better spent getting the new phone set up.

  As soon as I got it working, I found he’d already shared his schedule with me and given me more to read in my email. I groaned inwardly. There was enough reading material to keep me busy for weeks. Unlike Ronan, I wasn’t a bibliophile. I read a few books here and there, but it wasn’t something I’d go out of my way to do.

  When I looked up, we were at the airport, or rather, an airport. There were planes taking off and coming in over our heads, but we hadn’t gone to any of the public terminals. Instead, the driver had driven us to the edge of some tarmac, near which an unmarked jet waited. Of course he would have his own private jet.

  I slid the new phone into my pocket and frowned out the window. We weren’t alone on the tarmac. Two vans were parked between where our car had stopped and the plane. Standing in front of one of those vans were a tall, bald man in an expensive suit, but he wasn’t my concern. I was more worried about the paramilitary types standing around him. “Military contractor” was the nice way of saying mercenary, also known as assholes who did half the work and got twice the pay of real soldiers. We’d had a few on the base while I was stationed in Iraq, but I’d always done my best to avoid them. They didn’t associate with grunts like me anyway. What were they doing waiting for us on the tarmac, though?

  My heart fluttered in a panic for a moment. What if they’d been sent by someone higher up in the government to remind me to keep my mouth shut? Maybe what’d happened a few nights ago at Kloud9 had finally gotten up the chain, and they wanted to make sure I was still behaving myself.

  No, they wouldn’t send a bunch of mercs to do that kind of dirty work. That wasn’t how the feds did things. They knew better than to try to intimidate a former soldier with guns and muscle. If I was going to be threatened by someone high up, I figured it would come in the form of an official letter, an anonymous phone call, or frozen assets. Those guys were here for something else.

  Ronan narrowed his eyes and frowned when he saw them.

  I grabbed for the door, intending to get out and handle the situation. I was responsible for his personal safety now, after all.

  “Wait here,” Ronan said. “I’ll deal with them.”

  “No offense, Ronan, but you shouldn’t go out there alone. Those men are armed, and we don’t know what they want. It would be safer if you stayed in the vehicle and let me find out what they want first.”

  He laughed as if I were being paranoid. “I know them, and I know why they’re here. I’m not in any danger with them, I promise you.”

  Before I could stop him, he was out the door, straightening the collar of his coat and strolling over to meet with them. Rather than wait in the car as he’d instructed, I got out to follow. Ronan might be my boss, but I wasn’t going to let him win every argument, especially when it came to letting me do my job.

  The bald man met Ronan with a handshake. “Good to see you’re well, Ronan.”

  “It’s been a while, Vaughn. How’s your arm? Last time I saw you, it was in a sling.”

  “Never better.” He demonstrated by making a fist and flexing his fingers. Vaughn’s eyes shifted to me. “This must be your new head of security.”

  Ronan turned as if to introduce me, but I stepped in and held out my hand. “Callie Hart.”

  “I hope you’ve got a strong personality, Ms. Hart,” Vaughn said, taking my hand. “You’ll need it to work with this one. He’s a stubborn boy.”

  “I’d rather be stubborn than ugly and bald,” Ronan quipped.

  Vaughn laughed and ran a hand over his smooth head. “Yes, well, we all have our gifts. Some of us look good in photographs. Others help dictate the rise and fall of dynasties.”

  Their back-and-forth seemed good-natured on the surface, but underneath, there was a tense thread. Whatever their history, Vaughn and Ronan didn’t like each other.

  I scanned the faces of the mercs at Vaughn’s back but didn’t find anyone I recognized. None of them stood out or even twitched. They were as still as the mannequins at the factory. The logo on the vans behind them, however, was familiar. I’d seen one exactly like it in the parking garage the night before.

  “You’re with Meyer Securities?” I asked Vaughn.

  He chuckled. “Young lady, I am Meyer Securities. I own the company. It’s the largest private security contractor in the United States, I should add.”

  Ronan shook his head. “You can stop trying to sell it to her. I pay her enough so she’s not interested.”

  Vaughn folded his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. “It’s not always about the money. Personal security has its advantages. Safer. Local. A nice, comfortable job. If ever you start to feel like you don’t belong over here, Ms. Hart, Meyer Securities has people stationed in thirty countries around the world. We rebuild governments and fight terrorists. If you’re interested in Fashion Week, I think you’ll be more comfortable with Ronan.”

  I glanced at Ronan, trying to read his expression. He was focused wholly on Vaughn, but he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “Thanks, Vaughn,” I said, “but I did my time with Uncle Sam. I’m good.”

  Ronan’s shoulders relaxed as soon as I turned Vaughn down. Had he really been worried that I’d take the man up on the offer? “What do you really want?”

  “I have correspondence from your mother.” Vaughn opened his jacket.

  On instinct, my hand drifted closer to the gun at my belt.

  Vaughn paused when he saw her react and smirked before producing an envelope that he held out to Ronan.

  Ronan took the envelope, tore it open, and scanned the handwritten letter inside. “Looks like you’ll be joining us on our trip to New York.”

  “Why?” I didn’t mean for the question to slip out like that. It was supposed to come out more tactful and less defensive. As it was, it sounded like I was jumping to defend my job as his bodyguard.

  “We can talk about it on the plane.” Ronan folded the letter and stuck it in his pocket. “If we don’t get in the air in the next few minutes, we’re going to miss our takeoff window. You’ll be leaving your people here?”

  “I’m in charge of security,” I said, crossing my arms. “If you bring anyone, they’ll have to coordinate with me.”

  Vaughn smiled and flashed me a quick glance. “Of course. I think you’ll be more than enough protection for both of us, Ms. Hart.” He gestured for his people to go.

  They immediately turned and marched back to their vans.

  I watched them climb in one by one. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the same company’s van had been parked outside the club last night. Had the vampires gotten into it to make their escape or just one that looked like it? I couldn’t remember. After tossing and turning all night, the specifics of what had happened were skewed. When I checked the news in the morning, there weren’t any reports of body parts found in any parking garages, so either he’d turned to dust before they got there or I’d dreamed the whole thing.

  If it was real, Vaughn might be connected. The question was, how?

  We boarded the plane, and I tried not to gawk at how nice everything was. I’d been on plenty of planes, and even jumped out of a few, but never a private jet. Unlike a normal airplane, there were only a handful of seats, each more like a padded armchair than how I pictured an airplane seat. Flawless white leather covered the seats, and polished wood panels ran the length of the cabin. Rather than all face forward, the seats had been arranged in quads so that when Ronan and I took our seats, we were facing each other. Vaughn sat in the second quad of seats but made sure to sit where he could keep smiling at me.

  I didn’t like him, and not just because he might be connected to the assholes who’d attacked
me the night before. It wasn’t even because he was the head of a bunch of glory-hunting mercs, although those two things didn’t help. There was something about the smug way he talked down to both Ronan and me, as if he thought he was better than both of us put together.

  My fingers dug into the plush armrests as the plane took off, and I tried to stare down his grinning face. Maybe he’s just trying to be pleasant, I told myself. Some people couldn’t help themselves, always grinning like idiots. Or maybe he knows something I don’t. His smiles and smug glances were really starting to get on my nerves.

  As soon as we were in the air, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned forward. “Tell me the truth, Ronan. Who is that guy? What’s he doing here with us?”

  Ronan sighed and leaned to the side to let his chin rest on his fist. “This is my mother’s doing. She’s being overprotective. I told you she was this way, always sticking her nose in my business where it doesn’t belong.”

  “She sent him to keep an eye on you?”

  “Yes and no.” He shifted his weight and leaned forward so we could whisper. “I’m sure he’ll report everything I do back to her, but they aren’t exactly friends. She sent him as a gesture of goodwill. He’s supposed to assist in investigating what happened at the factory the other night.”

  I glanced at Vaughn, who’d opened a magazine. At least he wasn’t grinning at me anymore. “Why him? He’s not the most qualified investigator.”

  “He’s a vampire, Callie.”

  The news made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “I wish you’d told me that before I was trapped in a metal tube thirty-five thousand feet in the air with him!”

  “Calm down,” Ronan whispered. “He’s not going to do anything. Vaughn works for the vampire aristocracy. He’s a liaison between his people and mine.”

  “Your people?”

  He blinked and sat up. “Come on, you’re pulling my leg. You must know.”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what you mean. Models? Why would there need to be a liaison between vampires and underwear models? Do you guys have some sort of union?”

  “God, you’re serious.” He rubbed his temples. “Fae, Callie.”

  I don’t know why I was surprised. After hearing vampires were a thing, nothing should’ve shocked me, but you’d think he would’ve mentioned that before I signed on. Why would he expect me to know he was fae? Of course, Ronan had been scatterbrained all morning. Maybe he thought he’d told me and forgot.

  I meant to say all of that out loud, but what came out of my mouth was, “Like Tinkerbell?”

  Ronan slapped his palm to his face. “Why is that what everyone thinks of when they hear ‘fae?’ Do I look like I’m five inches tall in a green tutu to you? Have you ever seen me sprinkle magic gold dust?”

  “How should I know? I just met you a few days ago, and it’s not like you’ve spent any time explaining any of this to me. The only training I’ve had for this job has been pretty rushed. I’ve got to say, that’s something you could work on.”

  “It’s all in the book.” He pointed to the book I’d placed on the empty seat next to me and sighed. “The book I didn’t give you until this morning. Okay, fine. Fair enough. Look, we’ve got another hour and a half on this flight. Why don’t we use it to clear all that up? If you have any questions, any at all, I’m happy to answer them.”

  “Wait a minute.” My brain combed through our conversation the day before. “If you’re fae, and your mother has the kind of clout to call up a high-ranking vampire and tell him to follow you around, you must be someone important.”

  Ronan sighed again, except this time, his body deflated as the air left it. “My mother is the current head of the winter court.”

  “Which would make you what, a prince?”

  He cringed. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t want anything to do with court politics. That’s why I’m here and not with her. She’s supposed to leave me out of it, but she doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.”

  I stared at Ronan. Not only was he not human, but he was fae royalty? I hadn’t signed on for that. I was there to be a bodyguard to a model and an Instagram celebrity, not someone who might be a political target. Well, at least the vampire attack made sense now. There was a reason someone might go after him; it hadn’t been random. I didn’t know if that should’ve been as comforting as it was.

  “I think I could use a drink.” I got out of my seat and went to the back of the plane, where I’d spied a fully stocked minibar. Since I was on the job, I skipped the booze and grabbed a Coke from the fridge. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it would have to do. As much as I desired a stiff drink to wash the taste of Ronan’s news out of my brain, I wasn’t going to give him or Vaughn any reason to question my ability to do my job.

  “Enjoying the flight, Ms. Hart?” Vaughn asked from behind me. He’d stood up to stretch as I walked past him and had apparently followed me.

  I turned around, soda in hand. “Are you?”

  He shrugged and opened the little fridge I’d just stepped away from. “I have to say, I didn’t wake up with the intention of going to New York this morning, but things change. In my position, you have to learn to be flexible.”

  Ronan had said you could tell a lot about a person from their shoes, but that wasn’t the only way to judge someone. I’d learned a long time ago that you could guess a lot about someone’s personality based on the drinks they ordered. Boring people drank tea. Classy boring people drank hot tea. Normal people gravitated toward Coke or Pepsi, but anyone with taste picked the former over the latter whenever possible. Psychopaths and sociopaths drank weird things like grape and orange soda. The truly dangerous and unpredictable assholes? They’d cornered the Dr. Pepper market.

  Vaughn grabbed the one and only Dr. Pepper in the fridge and gulped it down like a maniac.

  I put my can of Coke down on the bar. “I know what you are.”

  “A vampire?”

  “A bloodsucker of a different sort.” I lowered my voice to make sure Ronan didn’t hear. “Someone who likes conflict. You get off on pitting two people against each other and letting them fight it out. Then, when both sides are too decimated to resist, you swoop in and pretend to offer salvation. Every problem you solve is one of your own making. You’re a snake in the grass, Vaughn. I’ve got my eye on you.”

  He laughed so hard he doubled over. When he recovered, he stood up and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Well done, Ms. Hart! That was the most intimidating speech I’ve heard all day. I can see why he hired you. You do have a certain…arrogance. You two are alike in that regard.” Vaughn swooped in, moving so fast I didn’t have time to react. One minute he was an arm’s length away from me, the next, he was right in front of me, so close I almost choked on his cologne. “You might think you have me figured out, but I promise you, I’m still full of surprises.” He grinned his smug grin and took a step back, raising his can of Dr. Pepper in a toast. “I look forward to working closely with you in the future.”

  As I watched him walk back to his seat, I was more sure than ever that he and his company’d had something to do with what’d happened to me the night before, and probably the attack at the warehouse too. Before this was all said and done, I was going to make sure he regretted his involvement. All I needed was proof.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’d never been to New York City before, nor had I attended a professional photoshoot. It seemed the day was going to be full of firsts.

  As soon as we’d landed at JFK, the three of us had been whisked away in another car with another driver. I wouldn’t have to remember the names of his drivers. It was all stored in the new phone, logged in his receipts, his schedule, and his GPS.

  The city was exactly like I’d expected it to be: full of tall buildings, too many people, and choking smells. At the street level, everything smelled like car exhaust and distant food, although I could not tell if it was good food or rotten. Maybe it was both. Luckily,
we didn’t spend much time outside.

  Vaughn had left us to do some business of his own once we reached the studio. We would call him when we were ready to head back to the plane.

  I don’t know what I expected a photography studio to look like, but it turned out to be a four-story brick building in Brooklyn with a stone façade. There were no signs out front announcing it was a studio of any kind. The building didn’t even have a number on it. As far as I could tell, it was exactly like the other residential buildings around it. Once we got inside, though, it was very different. There wasn’t any furniture, except for some folding chairs and a long folding table with a white tablecloth over it. It was empty except for a coffee and water dispenser.

  A dark-haired woman in a bright red dress met us at the door. She had long hair, long enough that it must’ve taken hours to brush it. The way she swished it around when she walked said she was proud of it, as if growing hair was an accomplishment. Her name was Anna, and she turned out to be one of the production assistants, which I guessed was another name for ‘glorified escort.’ She brought us to a small dressing area so Ronan could change. Rather than dress for the photoshoot, however, he came out in a loose t-shirt and shorts, and they took us to a small gym area with a rack of free weights.

  It seemed like a weird time for a workout, but I wasn’t the pro. It wasn’t my job to tell anyone what to do unless there was a dangerous situation, so I found a spot by the door and waited while Ronan went through a routine of pushups, lateral lifts, and curls.

  After a few minutes, I noticed Anna inching closer to where I stood, arms crossed. She leaned to the side without taking her eyes off Ronan. “First photoshoot with Ronan?”

  I looked her up and down and shrugged.