Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire

by Harvey-Berrick, Jane

“Justin, finally! We don’t know yet. A doctor is checking her. I’ll have to call you back.”

  And the fucking bitch hangs up on me, leaving me staring at a useless hunk of plastic.

  “I’m going over there.”

  “Justin,” Rachel lays a cool hand on my arm, “just give it ten minutes. Wait until the doctor has seen her.”

  I know she’s right, but it feels wrong, standing here as useless as a sundeck on a submarine.

  Ten minutes are up and she hasn’t called back. I try her cell, but it’s turned off.

  “That’s it. I’m heading over.”

  Rachel bites her lip, but doesn’t try to stop me. I text the boss to tell him I have an emergency, and arrange for Evans to do the security sweeps. Just as I’m heading out, my cell rings.

  “She’s fine. She’s okay. The doctor says it’s just stomach flu.”

  I hear the tremor in Carla’s voice and remember, for the briefest moment, that I cared about her once.

  “Thank, Christ. I’m coming over.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Justin,” she snaps, reminding me why we got divorced. “It’s late and I’m taking her home. I was just letting you know.”

  “I’m her father, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Don’t swear at me, Justin, and stop trying to bully me.”

  “FUCK!” I yell into the phone as she cuts me off again.

  Rachel wraps her arms around me, and with her touch, I feel like I can breathe.

  I leave early the next morning and spend a couple of hours with Lilly. I can tell that Carla wants to kick me the hell out, but she doesn’t because our daughter is happy to see me. I guess that makes her a good mom. Not sure what it makes me.

  Saturday morning, and my woman is going away. It’s only for one night, but it feels like someone cut off my right arm.

  “Justin, put me down! I’m only going to be gone till Sunday evening!”

  “Too long,” I murmur into her warm, soft, deliciously-scented neck as I hug the shit out of her.

  She gives a light laugh and tugs my hair.

  “This is getting long! I thought you told me that if you could hold onto your sideburns, your buzzcut was in need of a trim. You’d better shape up, Marine!”

  “It’s because you’re leading me astray, woman.”

  Damn, I love it when she’s a bad influence.

  “You don’t seem to have any difficulty being led, Justin.”

  “Not true! I’m trying to make an honest woman of you, but you don’t want to give up living in sin.”

  She stills, and I regret my words because now they’ve broken the mood.

  “You know what I think about that, Justin. I don’t want to discuss it again.”

  “Okay, but can we discuss some more sin when you get back?”

  And that makes her smile.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Oh yeah, me, too.

  With the mansion empty and with no distractions, I can focus on keeping the boss safe. I check all the entrances and exits again, but still nothing.

  I’m almost relieved when Mason calls me with an update. But not for long.

  “We’ve got a problem, Trainer. Ms. Alvarez has a stalker. Evans spotted a tail on her twice this week. We ran the guy’s facials but nothing so far.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Yes, a confirmed sighting yesterday.”

  “And you’re telling me this now? What happened?”

  “Evans spotted the tail in the morning and again at lunch time when Ms. Alvarez went to the deli. He didn’t see him following her home. But twice in one day—I don’t like it.”

  Neither do I, and the boss is going to do a St. Helen’s.

  “I’ll add a twice-daily sweep of the Alvarez apartment to the security schedule. I’ll make a personal inspection this afternoon.”

  “Who the fuck is doing this, Mason? Is it the blackmailer?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  I put the phone down, and the first thing I do is check my Smith & Wesson because nothing is going to happen to Ms. Alvarez and the boss: not on my fucking watch.

  I sweep the building again, and wait by the elevator when I see that the boss and Maria have arrived in the underground garage.

  The boss gets straight to the point.

  “Has Mason been in touch?

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And?”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “Good. And how is your daughter?”

  See, this is why I put up with all the boss’s fucked up shit: he’s remembered that Lilly was sick. Gotta rate that twisted bastard.

  “She’s fine now, thank you, sir.”

  “That’s good.”

  Ms. Alvarez smiles at me.

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s eight. She lives with the B— her mother.”

  I follow the boss to his home office for my orders.

  “We’re having dinner with my parents tonight, Trainer. Leaving at seven.”

  “Bearing in mind the development of a possible stalker, would you consider postponing…”

  “No.”

  “In that case, sir, I’d like to recommend that we keep a 24/7 guard at Wolf Point for now. Sir.”

  He rubs his forehead.

  “Fine. Have Mason arrange it. But low profile.”

  Yeah, I can do that: the cool cat who walks alone.

  “My sister will be pleased to see you tonight, Trainer,” he says, blandly, as if it’s an afterthought.

  And I can’t help groaning. I need a run-in with Abigail Anderson as much as Colonel Custer needs more Indians.

  Chapter 20

  Groundhog Day

  EVANS INTRODUCES ME to Reynolds and Banner. I know Mason won’t send me any greenhorns. Reynolds seems like a solid guy. Doesn’t have much of a sense of humor though. He reminds me of me. But less charming. I’m a hard act to follow.

  It’ll be strange not having the staff area to ourselves anymore, me and Rachel. It’s a development that I don’t like. At all. But right now, I need the backup for a big ole fundraiser at Anderson’s parents’ tonight.

  “Anything to report from Scarsdale?”

  Evans frowns.

  “Apart from the fact it’s wide open? There’s access from the golf course; the perimeter isn’t viable—a ten year old could get over their boundary wall. I don’t like it.”

  Then Banner speaks up.

  “Any chance Anderson will cancel?”

  “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that? Oh wait, I did. And then I nearly got my ass fired for suggesting it. Anything useful you want to tell me?”

  He has the sense to look pretty fucking embarrassed. I can see Evans trying to hide a smile.

  Okay, so maybe I’m being an asshole, but I think I’ve got every reason. Like I really need another challenge.

  “Got any good news?” I mutter, trying to calm down.

  “Mason’s arranged for a team to watch the perimeter: best I can say, boss.”

  Yeah, now he’s trying to brown-nose me by calling me ‘boss’. The only person I want calling me ‘boss’ is Rachel—and that ain’t never gonna happen. On the other hand, she called me ‘God’ the other night. I guess that’s a promotion.

  Reynolds looks over his shoulder.

  “Heads up, officer on deck,” he mutters.

  Anderson shakes hands and Reynolds discreetly sizes up the boss. Either it’s Anderson’s interesting reputation, or he’s admiring the cut of his Savile Row shirt. Never underestimate your close protection squad.

  “They’ve been out to your parents’ house to do a sweep, and Mason has eyes on the perimeter. It’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  I shrug, sending him a loud and fucking clear message.

  He frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Banner will be up front with me in the Range Rover,” I continue. “Evans will be in the escort car, and Reynolds will be at Wolf Point.”

  T
he boss looks irritated and I know it’s not with me, but this fucked-up situation.

  BANNER, EVANS AND Reynolds are kicking back in my living room—that is, the staff living room.

  “Everything cool with Anderson?” asks Lance.

  “As cool as it gets for him. He doesn’t want any fuck-ups tonight. I told him there wouldn’t be any—don’t you assholes make a liar out of me.”

  “You’ve got a really sweet deal here, T,” says Evans thoughtfully. “Nice place, nice cushy number with Anderson.”

  I really didn’t think I’d ever hear the words ‘cushy’ and ‘Anderson’ in the same sentence. I might have to rethink Evans’ level of intelligence. Did he send his brain for dry-cleaning?

  “But do you ever miss being a Bootneck?”

  “You mean sharing living space with twenty guys and eating MREs three times a day in 120-degree heat? Not so much.”

  “Huh, you say so? What’s it like working for this Anderson guy?” asks Reynolds. “You like this close protection work?”

  I know he’s only recently punched out from Navy SEALs.

  “It’s a different level of intensity. You’re totally in some stranger’s life, but you’re not part of it either. It can get a bit crazy keeping everything separate. But Anderson isn’t a publicity hound like some of the assholes I’ve worked for. He sees his family and his girl, and he works. That’s it.”

  Okay, so I might have been economical with the truth, but it’s no one’s fucking business. I mean, the boss’s fucking is no one’s business.

  “So how much of a problem is this stalker?” asks Evans.

  “We don’t know that he’s after Ms. Alvarez—Anderson could still be the target,” I remind him.

  A couple of hours later, we all change into our fade-into-the-background good suits, and do a comms check while we’re waiting in the foyer.

  “Everyone know what they’re doing?”

  They all nod, and Anderson strides over, looking tense.

  “Trainer?”

  “We’re good to go, sir.”

  And I realize I’ve only got part of their attention when Reynolds does a goldfish impersonation and Evans looks as if he’s about to drool.

  So fucking uncool.

  I turn around and see Maria walking towards us. She looks stunning. I always thought she was a cute kid, but right now she looks beautiful. I feel proud of her. Maybe it’ll feel like this when I see Lilly go to her prom. Not that I’ll allow any creepy kid getting their paws on her. I read that teenage boys think about sex every fifteen seconds—or maybe that was Anderson, I can’t remember. Either way, I’ll be escorting Lilly to her prom. And I’ll be armed.

  “Maria, you look breathtaking.”

  I feel like fucking cheering. The boss has managed to compliment his girl without making an ass of himself. It’s a Kodak moment, in a non-visual, auditory sort of way.

  While Anderson and Maria enjoy a glass of champagne, I send the others to check the underground garage. I’m not expecting any issues on home turf, but you can never be careful enough.

  When we arrive at Scarsdale, Banner jumps out to open Ms. Alvarez’s door, then discreetly escorts the happy couple while I park the car.

  Showtime.

  I’ve just about finished doing a sweep of the house when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I whip around and try to frame words, but nothing comes out. It’s like the nightmarish scene in ‘Ghostbusters’ where they conjure up the source of their own destruction just by thinking about it. But it’s not a 100ft Marshmallow Man stalking me … it’s much, much worse.

  Abigail Anderson.

  “Hello, Trainer,” she says. “I was hoping I’d see you … by yourself. Mom says that she doesn’t think you’re gay? I really hope she’s right.”

  I break out into a cold sweat and my pulse rate goes through the roof.

  Where the fuck is backup?

  “My date has been such a disappointment. But now you’re here! It must be fate.”

  I try to speak, but my mouth has inconveniently frozen into the shape of a scream. Munch could have used me as his model.

  The horror. The horror.

  “Mom always says you shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s work. I so agree, don’t you, Justin?”

  I wonder if I can make it to the door before…

  “Will you dance with me, Justin? I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind. Just one little dance?”

  Over my dead body—which looks like it could well be the case.

  She takes a step closer, and I measure the distance to the window. If I don’t stop to open it, I should be able to make it through into the garden.

  But then there’s a figure in the doorway, and relief floods through me.

  “All clear on the second floor, T. Oh, sorry … should I come back later?”

  Lance Banner is staring at me, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “ ‘T’? Oh, wow, is that like code? That’s so cute! Who’s your friend, Justin? Hi, my name’s Abigail. It’s really nice to meet one of Justin’s special friends at last.”

  “Um … good evening. The name’s Banner, ma’am.”

  “Oh, it’s so great to meet you, Banner. Is your first name, like, Bruce? Because that would be way cool. Or, it could be Justin’s special nickname for you. That would be so funny!”

  “It’s Lance Banner, ma’am.”

  Don’t engage the enemy! Retreat! Retreat!

  “Hey, you’ve got those earpieces like real secret service agents! Who are you talking to, Justin? Are there more of you? More of your friends? Can I try?”

  She reaches up to touch my earpiece and I make a tactical retreat.

  “We’re working, Miss Anderson,” I say, severely.

  She giggles. Christ she’s annoying.

  “You’re so cute when you get all serious, Justin.”

  Banner is looking nervous.

  If she wasn’t my employer’s sister I might consider drawing my gun, but the way my luck’s going she’d probably catch the bullet in her teeth.

  When she giggles again, I cringe.

  “He’s so cute! Is he your special friend?”

  Banner’s eyes look like they’re on swivels, as his gaze toggles between us.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say, tightly, “I really have to go now.”

  She pouts.

  “You’re no fun, T,” and she stalks off, looking for fresh prey.

  I run my hand across my forehead, wiping off the sweat.

  Across the room, Banner is tugging at his tie.

  “Getting mighty warm in here, T,” he says, nervously.

  You’ve got that right.

  Banner pats his chest and I know he’s wishing he had a Kevlar vest. Although garlic and a Crucifix would probably work better.

  At least I get to use my stealth and evasion training in the Marines to keep out of her sight for the rest of the evening.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, the boss is back from lunch at Le Bernier with Ms. Alvarez. I’ve been watching their approach on the computer. Well, watching the positioning of his phone’s GPS. Evans is on driving duty today.

  “Banner, heads up. The boss is back.”

  Huh, alliteration. Damn, I’m The Man!

  “Okay, T. I’ll go cover the garage.”

  It’s been good having Lance here over the last few days: he knows what he’s doing and I know he’s got my back. Although it’s been weird having him and Evans sharing my office when they’re on duty—and one of those bastards has eaten all the cookies that Rachel baked for me—but it made me realize something: Wolf Point is my home. I’ve gotten so used to thinking of this as a job, I hadn’t even noticed the change. Or maybe it’s not so much Wolf Point as the fact Rachel is here. Rachel is my home.

  On the other hand, maybe it’s just all the damn joy that Anderson has been radiating since Ms. Alvarez came back into his life. Now he knows what he’d be missing if she left again. And if Rachel left … I really don�
��t want to fucking think about that.

  At least no one can get into Wolf Point unless Anderson invites them, and that isn’t going to happen.

  I head for the elevator and stand by, ready to meet Anderson and Ms. Alvarez. The doors slide open and I’m treated to the really private spectacle of them kissing as if the end of the world has just been announced.

  I step back, out of their eye-line.

  I still can’t get used to seeing the boss lose control like that. I’ve seen him radiating red-hot fury to the point where Howard considered wearing fireproof pants to meetings, but there was always something calculated about it, like he knew exactly what effect this had on his employees. And he didn’t do it very often—he didn’t need to. His icy-cold anger was even more terrifying; that shark-like ability to hone in on anyone’s weakness. Not me, of course.

  The only other time Anderson lets any emotion show is when he’s asleep. No man can out-run those demons.

  “Good afternoon, Trainer.”

  “Ms. Alvarez, Mr. Anderson.”

  She beams at me.

  “It’s really great to see you. You look well.”

  I see the boss’s fingers tighten on her with a death grip. He looks as if he’d like to rip my arms off and use them to beat me over the head. It’s a pretty mild reaction for him, especially where Ms. Alvarez is concerned.

  “If you’ve finished. I’d like a debriefing,” he spits out.

  Yeah, very fucking smooth. Not.

  “I’ll be with you shortly,” snarls Anderson.

  What he really means is ‘you’re so fucking fired’.

  I’m almost surprised he doesn’t piss on the walls to mark his territory. Maybe that will come later. But if he tries to piss on my shoes, I’m outta here.

  I go wait in the office. Banner is still patrolling and I can see him on the CCTV cameras. He’s checking out the cars belonging to other residents in the street.

  Anderson strides into the office, still looking pissed.

  I fold my arms across my chest and wait for his tirade. But it doesn’t come. Instead he stares at me appraisingly.

  “Report, Trainer,” he says, almost mildly.

  Did they fuck already?

  Maybe his bedroom is like ‘Brigadoon’ and I’ve been standing here for a hundred years.