“No!”
Anderson shouts out and is already running forwards, but I football tackle him to the ground, covering his body with mine.
Van Sant is sitting on the floor, looking surprised at the blood leaking out of his belly. The SWAT team bursts into the room, and seeing Van Sant still holding his gun, they order him to drop his weapon.
Yells come from all directions: Get down! Drop your weapon! On the floor, now!
Van Sant stares around him, hopelessness and defeat in his expression.
He turns to Anderson and smiles sadly, then brings the gun to his head.
“Aston, no!”
Van Sant pulls the trigger.
Benson vomits.
The police are all over the scene, relieving me of my weapon until they’ve checked my ID, interviewing Khan, soothing Benson.
The guy is shaking and in shock. He’s never shot a human being before. Never seen anyone die violently. You don’t get over that. Ever.
Anderson stares at Van Sant’s body, his expression unreadable, but I feel the weight of his sadness. I could have talked him down, so could Anderson.
It didn’t have to end like this.
Chapter 23
The Graduate
THE INCIDENT BROUGHT Anderson a lot of negative publicity, but in the end it was decided that Van Sant’s actions were brought on by depression at losing his job.
Which is strange, because Anderson never fired him.
Heidi made an unreliable witness because she’d been so scared. Benson only spoke about the minute leading up to his taking the shot. Khan kept his mouth shut, so no one told the investigators about Van Sant’s speech saying that he was innocent.
It seems like business as usual, but I notice some changes. For one, Anderson doesn’t go for dinner with Landon like he used to; for another, there are no more parties at the Farm.
The boss ‘meditates’ more than usual, which upsets Rachel, but at least she’s home again. And at least she’s giving me a second … or maybe a third chance.
She seems calmer now, as if being with her sister restored some balance in her life. I hate that I wasn’t the one who could give her that, but all I have to offer is a strong arm and more craziness. Why would a woman like her want that? But at least she can meet my eyes again; at least I can be part of her life for now.
And then, a month later on a Tuesday afternoon, Ryan calls my cell phone.
“Mr. Anderson wants to see you, Justin.”
“Just throw a raw steak into his cave and retreat thirty feet.”
“Funny … not. I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”
Sighing, I drag my weary ass to the boss’s office.
“Yes, sir?” ‘Sup, dude?
“Change of plan for tonight. I’ll be visiting a club in the Village.”
“Sir?” Say what?
He sighs, irritated at having to repeat himself.
“The Comedy Cellar, it’s on MacDougal Street, eight o’clock.”
I’m hearing it, but I’m not believing it. The boss is to comedy what nuns are to porn. Oh wait, there was that one time … whatever, it’s not normal!
I head back to my office certain that the world ended and no one told me.
“Relax, big guy,” says Pam, catching up with me.
“What just happened in there? Is he on drugs?”
“Maybe, or just the oldest drug of all—sexual attraction.”
I wait, count to ten, consider taking off socks to count higher, but no, Pam’s still not making sense.
“He’s turned on by crappy comics? Why doesn’t he just watch Saturday Night Live?”
Pam gives a fake sigh.
“So young, so foolish. He’s going to see a woman.”
“A woman? A female woman?”
“Hark, it’s an echo!”
“Fuck’s sake, Pam!”
Eventually, she takes pity on me.
“Remember when he was interviewing interns a few weeks back and we got interrupted by news of the blackmailer?”
I scowl. I’m not likely to forget that in a hurry.
“Two females: IC1, IC2 and an IC1 male.”
“How reassuringly pedantic.”
I don’t bother to reply.
“Well, the dark haired woman, Maria Alvarez, does a standup routine there…”
And a memory comes back to me.
“I’m funny on Tuesdays.”
“Yeah, I remember. The boss wants to see her?”
“Possibly. Right now, he seems to be interested in seeing some up-and-coming comics.”
I go home, irritated by the change of plans. I’ve downgraded the security around Anderson since Van Sant did a handstand over the great divide, and Howard seems to have chased off the blackmailer, although he’s still looking for him in his spare time. I guess everyone needs a hobby.
Rachel is annoyingly upbeat.
“Oh, this is wonderful news, Justin! Mr. Anderson is interested in a normal girl in a normal way!”
“Not for long,” I mutter under my breath.
“What do you mean?”
“Rachel, the moment she walks through the door and sees his ‘meditation room’, she’ll do one of two things: freak or run. Possibly both.”
Rachel’s face falls.
“Oh dear.”
I go to my closet and pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt. It feels strange to dress casual around the boss, but he wants to fly under the radar tonight. The Press have had enough kicks off of his buck this last month.
I drive us to the club and the silence is awkward. We’re not buddies, we’re employer and employee, but now we have to act like friends. I prefer it when the boundaries are firmly in place.
I enter the club first, peering through the gloom to find a table against the wall where I can guard the perimeter—or at least have one angle that I don’t have to worry about.
I sit nursing a glass of mineral water while the boss sips on a white wine, not so patiently waiting for the star attraction.
Eventually, the girl shuffles onto the stage, blinking through her schoolmarm glasses and smiling timidly at the audience.
“Hi, me again. And you were hoping for Sarah Palin. But if you want to throw fruit at me, I make a great grapefruit salad.”
She’s dying on her feet out there.
A rush of pity washes through me. She’s gripping the microphone like it’s a lifeline.
“So … I went for a job interview recently. It was awkward. And yet I’m such a relaxed person.”
A couple of people laugh politely, but it seems to give her confidence.
“I wanted to make a good impression. Well, I made an impression when I showed up with two skinned knees, but the bleeding stopped by the time I got to his office and I didn’t make any inappropriate comments about blowjobs on the Subway steps, so that’s good, right?”
She grimaces, but flounders on. Oh boy, this could be interesting!
“The guy interviewing me was a billionaire and he says, ‘So, why do you want to work for me?’ Really? I’m supposed to lie and say, ‘your ethical approach to agriculture and green issues makes your company a go-to agrichem company’ instead of, ‘well, gee, if you’re smart enough to hire me, I’m definitely smart enough to be as rich as you if I work for your company’.”
A few more people laugh and I sense that she’s beginning to relax. She’s not too bad now she’s loosened up a bit. Or maybe the audience just feels sorry for her.
“He’s a billionaire from the Hamptons, and I’m a Latina from the Bronx—you could call it a match made in Havana.”
I glance at the boss, but he’s watching her with a stony expression.
She goes on for another ten minutes about how awful her interview was and how she never even got a ‘thanks, but no thanks’ letter.
When she finishes, she gets a muted round of applause and leaves the stage looking flushed and happy.
Which is when the boss makes his move.
“Good evening, Ms. Alvarez. That was most entertaining.”
She gapes, her hands limp at her sides.
“I … I…”
“Enlightening too, I might add.”
He’s doing his best to sound charming, but he’s not happy.
“OMG! Mr. Anderson! Oh wow, you’re pissed. I’m really sorry. It’s just comedy.”
“Very amusing. And instructive.”
She looks up at him sheepishly.
“I was kind of a mess and you were all dark and intimidating.”
He stares at her, his head on one side.
“My mother’s maiden name was Gloria García. She was from the Bronx, too.”
Her cheeks turn red.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he says softly.
And guess what? He spends two hours with little Ms. Alvarez. Two hours! When a journo from the New York Times wangled an interview with him off the back of a charity event he was involved with last year, he was out on his ear within fifteen minutes.
But the look on his face when he saw Ms. Alvarez … he’s interested. I know that look: enthusiasm. He gets it when someone’s telling him about a new work project, or a recent development at the UVM Agriculture Division. It’s rare, but he’s excited.
And I have a bad feeling about this. If the boss is excited about a woman, it can only end one way because he doesn’t do relationships.
Hell, she looks about seventeen, although I know from her file that she’s 24. There’s no way she’d be into his twisted shit.
So far, that hasn’t stopped him from being interested, because when we return to Wolf Point with Ms. Alvarez’s number on the boss’s cell phone, he orders an in-depth security check from Mason. And you know what, there’s nothing to find. She’s not overdrawn at the bank, she doesn’t do drugs, she doesn’t seem to drink much, she hardly ever goes out, she has a part-time job in a carpet warehouse store, for fuck’s sake; and Mason can’t find any evidence of a boyfriend.
And so we wait. What for is anyone’s guess.
Since Van Sant, everyone at DMA Tower is tiptoeing around Anderson, waiting for him to erupt like Old Faithful, only less predictable.
In the meantime, the boss is working-out like it’s the only thing stopping his brain from frying. He runs with me, trains with Basqiat, and works-out in his gym—it’s Anderson’s own version of Hell Week.
Every night, he wakes up screaming, and I’m so fucking tired of that. I’m thinking of buying ear plugs—except that paid security is supposed to be eyes and ears 24/7. I’m seriously thinking about looking for a new job, and I would, if it weren’t for Lilly’s tuition and Rachel.
She sees there’s something up with Anderson, but despite what she knows about him, she thinks he’s decent. Is that the word? It’s partly true. I’ve seen the depth of his philanthropic projects, his lack of interest in publicity, how hard he works but … and it’s a big but, there’s something behind his eyes, a barely contained violence. Rachel has never seen him come close to losing it. I have, and Krakatowa waiting to blow has nothing on him. And then, of course, there’s the meditation room, and Anderson’s demons are beaten into submission.
But Maria Alvarez … totally different story.
“Justin, do you really think Mr. Anderson would hurt this girl, the one he went to see last Tuesday?”
Rachel is frowning at me. I know a way to bring a smile to her face. I try to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my lap, but she laughs and steps away.
“Oh no, let’s try and have a conversation that doesn’t end up with me wondering where I’ve left my bra.”
“Those are my favorite sort of conversations.”
“I’ve noticed. But you’ll have to take a rain check. I’m cooking supper, and Mr. Anderson will be finished with the gym soon.”
She frowns as she says this. Jeez, she’s actually worried about him.
“No problem. I like to watch you cook, woman.”
She swipes at me with a spatula. I manage to duck just in time.
“Good reflexes.”
“I can show you some better ones.”
“Justin! Do you ever stop?”
“Never, baby. Twenty-four/seven. That’s what I’m paid for. But if you agreed to marry me, I’d be all yours, 24/7.”
She sighs.
“We’ve been over this. The answer is still no.”
“One day you’ll say yes, Rachel.”
“If I did, you’d have a heart attack!”
“What a way to go.”
She shakes her head and sighs, an exasperated sound, but even though she’s got her back to me, I know she’s smiling.
Her question eats away at me: would Anderson hurt the girl? Only if she saw his meditation room or he decided to start things up at the Farm again. So, yes, I think he would hurt her, given the chance. After all, that’s his only way of having a relationship. Sick fucker. And I’m still surprised that he’s interested in females.
Whether this girl would agree to it, that’s something else entirely. I know that Anderson is charismatic; he’s also persuasive and manipulative. I’ve seen him in action often enough, and I’ve seen the way men and women respond to his looks—I’ve seen him despise them for it. He’s not vain, although he likes to dress well, but that’s a uniform, part of the image, the Anderson brand. So would a naïve, young-looking college girl from the Bronx fall for the handsome billionaire? You do the math.
If I don’t like the way things go, I’ll have to leave—with or without Rachel. The thought makes me sick as fuck.
I wonder if girlfriends are a tax break. Executive-stress toys, maybe? I bet if his accountant put their expenses as ‘massage therapist’, the taxman wouldn’t look twice. You never can tell with rich people.
And you know what? There are different rules for the rich.
You don’t want to wait? Head on over to the front of the line.
You want a table in a fully-booked restaurant? Some other sucker gets kicked to the wait list.
You don’t like the squalor of flying first class? Buy your own jet.
You want someone to dance to your tune? You pay the piper.
And if you want someone to look the other way, everyone has a price.
Even me.
My price would be the safety of my daughter. She’s my weak spot—her and Rachel.
Rachel smiles gently.
“He likes her.”
“You think?”
She sighs heavily, obviously thinking my question is dumb.
“Justin! It’s obvious. He’s fallen for this girl, in a nice, normal way!”
I’m not so sure, but I don’t want to argue. I just want to take my woman in my arms and forget all about Anderson and all about his fucked up, twisted world. We’re in his life, but Rachel is my sanctuary, and right now, I just want to feel her soft, warm body. I want home.
“You look very stressed, Justin. I think I have something that could ease your tension.”
And my eyes willingly follow her as she walks into the bedroom. A second later, the rest of me follows.
I don’t see the message from Howard on my cell phone until the next morning.
The blackmailer posted more of the boss’s home movies on a porn site. I got it taken down, but it’s a threat. And the price just went up: three hundred million.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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More books by JHB
Series Titles
The Justin Trainer Series
The bodyguard and the billionaire
Guarding the Billionaire (Justin Trainer series #1)
Saving the Billionaire (Justin Trainer series #2)
* The EOD Series
Blood, bombs and heartbreak
*Tick Tock (EOD series #1)
* Bombshell (EOD series #2)
*The Traveling Series
All the fun of the fair … and two worlds collide
*The Traveling Man (Traveling series #1)
*The Traveling Woman (Traveling series #2)
*Roustabout (Traveling series #3)
*Carnival (Traveling series #4)
*The Education Series
An epic love story spanning the years, through war zones and more…
*The Education of Sebastian (Education series #1)
*The Education of Caroline (Education series #2)
The Education of Sebastian & Caroline (combined edition, books 1 & 2)
Semper Fi: The Education of Caroline (Education series #3)
*The Rhythm Series
Blood, sweat, tears and dance
*Slave to the Rhythm (Rhythm series #1)
*Luka (Rhythm series #2)
With Stuart Reardon
*Undefeated
*Model Boyfriend
*Touch My Soul (novella)
Gym Or Chocolate? (September 2019)
With Alana Albertson
Father Figure (August 2019)
Standalone Titles
New Adult
*Dangerous to Know & Love
Dazzled
Summer of Seventeen
Contemporary Romance
Battle Scars
One Careful Owner
*Lifers
At Your Beck & Call
The New Samurai
Exposure
Paranormal
The Dark Detective
Novellas
Playing in the Rain
*Behind the Walls
Audio Books
One Careful Owner
(narrated by Seth Clayton)
Theatre
Jane Harvey-Berrick Guarding the Billionaire Page 25