“Do you have a way to get there? You said you were stranded.”
“Apparently”—I snicker thinking of Brice and the car he’s ordered for me—“this man I met last night while we were trapped in the elevator has a car service downstairs waiting for me.”
“What?” More concern. I can’t blame her. “What man?”
“Yeah, it was a comedy of errors last night. You know the elevator in your building tried to kill me. They should get that thing fixed.”
“I’d be more worried about the man whose car you’re about to get into than the elevator. Statistics are much more staggering for that scenario than death in an elevator.” There’s a mild hint of humor in her voice, but it’s still guarded. The gatekeeping process for even having contact with Jana is nearly cult-like in its secrecy. I jumped through every hoop. Followed every direction. All the way up until I missed my appointment yesterday. Her services are a closely guarded secret, and now I’m a mystery to her again. A risk.
“No, Brice is great; I’m sure whoever is driving the car is from a reputable company. And really the story is quite funny. When I see you at ten you’ll be doubled over laughing.” A lump grows in my throat as I consider the possibility she might change her mind about working with me.
“Just be here at ten and we’ll regroup.” A wave of relief washes over me.
“See you then.”
I hang up the phone and do a little end zone victory dance, even though I’m still miles from anything that resembles a touchdown. I slip my coat on and toss my bag over my shoulder. Jana’s concern for me isn’t completely misguided. I could be walking into a dangerous situation.
There’s a fancy pen on the desk. It’s steel and sturdy. It has a presence of its own, if that’s possible for a writing utensil. Not surprising considering its owner. Of course his pen would be substantial.
I’m not a thief. That should be the end of that sentence. No but. BUT, let’s just say this driver is someone to be concerned about. This pen would make a great tool to stab an eye out.
Maybe a good jab to the junk?
I pick it up and convince myself I’ll return it after I meet with Jana later this morning. Or if things go badly, Brice can retrieve it from the eye socket of his driver.
I take the thirty flights of stairs down. Still determined not to tempt fate with the elevator. Bad idea.
As I reach the curb I’m winded, almost doubled over as I try to catch my breath. My side is cramped. I look like I’m dying.
“Miss Savannah?” A large man with a shaved head and bulbous nose stands a foot from me. His suit, his tie, and chauffeur hat are all a crisp black. The white shirt beneath is starched as rigid as the man’s back. “Are you all right?”
“I took the stairs,” I gasp out, clutching at his arm to steady myself. He tenses under my grip but not out of discomfort. It’s his attempt to be as sturdy as possible for me. “I might rather die in the elevator than die of a heart attack right now.”
“No chance of that, ma’am. You’re under my care. I don’t allow people to die. It’s bad for business.”
“Under your care?” I take another gulp of air and eye him.
He is unbothered by my scrutiny. “My name is Charles. I’ve been hired to take you where you need to go this morning. There is cold sparkling or flat spring water in the car. Please help yourself.”
“And you’ll be driving me where I want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Which is?” My test is rudimentary but it’s all I have. He might slip and say to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town and then I’ll know to stab him with Brice’s pen.
“The bank. Then perhaps to get something to eat. Or a place to stay?”
“The bank, yes. My apartment is on the other side of town. I won’t be able to make it there this time of the morning and still make my meeting. Maybe I can find somewhere around here to change and shower,” I say in an oddly regal way for no apparent reason other than I’m awkward as hell.
“We’ll work that all out. Shall we go then?” He gestures toward the car politely. He gets suddenly all ceremonial and formal. It suits him. Unlike me who just did a half curtsy like an idiot.
To his credit Charles offers me a small obedient kind of smile as he gestures again for me to head for the car. I don’t. I’m not ready.
“Are you going to murder me?”
“Excuse me?” His chin folds in on itself as he looks down at me. I take a little pride in the fact that I’ve rattled him. He seems unflappable, yet I have flapped him. I make a note to myself not to ever say that out loud to anyone.
“I appreciate the ride but I don’t know you, and I’m just wondering if you have a penchant for murder?”
“I do not.” He looks around as though he’s worried someone passing by might hear. I’m besmirching his reputation out here in the street. When I continue standing there like a weirdo, he reaches for his wallet. I put my hand in my pocket and grip the pen tightly. Eye-jabbing style.
He pulls out some photographs with tattered edges. “These are my children. I have two girls. My wife. We have cats. Two of them. Binxy and Tabitha.”
“Your cats’ names or your kids’ names?”
“The cats. I picked those names because my wife wouldn’t let me have anything to do with naming our daughters. I have a lot of aunts with tremendously bad names.”
He flips through the pictures and oddly enough, it does the trick. Maybe it’s the mangy looking yellow cat with one missing ear. Or the toothless grin of his littlest daughter.
I believe him.
“Okay, let’s go.” I skip forward and watch from the corner of my eyes as his face twists up in exasperation. Getting that reaction from people is my superpower. I don’t even have to try.
He folds his wallet and tucks it away. I’m at the passenger door getting in as I hear him protest with some kind of grumbling noise.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m to open the door for you, Miss Savannah. Traditionally.”
“Oh, Chuck . . . I am the furthest thing from traditional. Don’t worry.”
He clears his throat, seeming to swallow back his reaction to his new nickname. “And usually passengers prefer the comfort of the back seat.”
“Nah, I’m good up front.” I want to be in eye-stabbing distance if things get hokey. I’ve seen one too many shows about cab rides gone wrong. Rigged not to unlock. No thanks. The weird cat with one ear is cute, but I prefer to stay in striking distance with my pen.
He skitters around the front of the car and gets in with a muffled puff of air.
“You work for a service? Which one?” I check the dash for some kind of badge or company name.
“I work for Brice.”
“You just drive him around?”
“Among other things. Yes.”
“What other things?”
“Buckle up, Miss Savannah. Safety first.”
“You’re dodging my questions.”
“I’m a dutiful employee.”
“More like a deer during hunting season. Jumpy.” Biting my lip, I narrow my eyes at him.
“Hunting season? Are you aiming for me? Should I be worried?” He chuckles.
“I’m just chatty by nature.” I give him a warm smile. “Your boss was a man of few words last night. I’d like to know at least something about the man who ordered me to take this ride. What can you tell me about Brice? There has to be something you can share.”
I watch him sort through the answer. “I don’t usually do something like this. But you seem like a nice girl. Harmless. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to share something with you. Since you’re so interested in him.”
“I’m not interested in him. I have no intention of ever seeing him again.” I think of his pen in my pocket and wonder if maybe taking it had more to do with having an excuse to give it back. “Trust me, last night was a disaster. I’m just curious. Not interested in him.”
Charles nods
and lets his face fall serious. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t let it get back to him that I told you.”
“Of course.” I lean forward a bit, like I’m in the frigid waters of Coppertop, bracing for a wave to crest over me.
“He isn’t a fan of soft cheeses. Hates them actually. Prefers nice hard long-aged cheddar. He tells people he’s allergic, but truly he just doesn’t like them.”
“Fascinating.” I sit back in my seat and watch the city begin to roll by us. “You’re a funny man, Chucky. If this driving thing doesn’t work out, you should consider stand-up comedy.”
“I’ll consider it.” He reaches for the radio and turns it up. He thinks that’s going to keep me from talking to him. Cute.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brice
It’s not possible. In this day and age everyone has a digital footprint. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to drag my family, and in turn our country, into the future. Success is now dependent on evolution. Yet, Jana Monroe, and whatever she does on the fifteenth floor of this building, seems to have no real website. No public phone number. No mission statement. Nothing.
I consider calling in a favor. It’s not hard as royalty. People have indebted themselves to my family for generations, and I get to reap the benefits of that. But it can come with strings attached.
Nothing stays secret from my father. The questions would begin. Why would I be interested in this woman and her company? My mother would be calling me within the hour of getting word I was looking into Jana Monroe.
I reach for my pen and realize it’s gone. My father’s gift to me on my twenty-first birthday. I open the drawer and look beneath my desk. It’s gone.
She took it. I’ll have Charles pat her down before he drops her off. Or maybe I’ll do it myself.
My hands grow hot at the thought of touching her, searching her. I imagine having her back on my desk, legs spread, head tipped back. Begging for my cock. I have to physically shake my head to dislodge the image.
Charles calls, and I right myself quickly.
“Yes?” I’m irritated.
“She’s squared away. It went pretty quick. I’m guessing because people wanted to move her along as fast as they could.”
“I told you, she’s a nightmare.”
“I meant because she’s so sweet. Charming everyone we’ve met today. She’s at the hotel on South Street taking a shower and changing for her meeting. Shall I drop her off?”
“No. I can’t find anything about this woman she’s meeting. Just some bogus website front that leads nowhere. It’s like a shell company or something. I need more time.”
“She has an appointment with Jana at ten. It seems quite important. We’ve only got about an hour.”
“Has she told you anything else? Anything about what the meeting is for?” There’s an unfamiliar pitch in my voice that I quickly drop. “Anything about Jana?”
“Just that she can’t miss another meeting or she thinks she will not work with her.”
“What kind of work?”
“She hasn’t said. But she’s quite persistent about getting to the meeting.”
“And I know you’ll find a way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Sir.”
“You won’t be able to sleep at night if you think you’re dropping her off to some sleazy woman with bad intentions.”
“I don’t think your diplomatic protections cover me against kidnapping.” Charles clears his throat and lowers his voice. “We’re walking a fine line here.”
“You’re a persuasive man. Just get it done. Keep her busy and away from this building.”
“You did say you spent time with her right? You must have noticed she’s determined.”
An understatement. “I don’t know what exactly this Jana Monroe woman is offering, but Savannah wants it. And she’s no fool. I can’t just hold something shiny up and expect her to forget why she came here. Keep her busy.” My voice is flat, and he knows well enough not to challenge my order.
“Yes,” Charles replies dutifully. “I’ll create some issue.”
“Fake a heart attack? She seems like the kind of woman who would hop in an ambulance with a perfect stranger just so they weren’t alone.”
“That’s a good kind of woman.”
I sidestep the trap he’s trying to set for me. “She’s gullible.”
There’s a silence. “Just get it done. Buy me an hour or two.”
I hang up and cue up a number that will answer my questions but stir the pot for my family.
“Simon. It’s Brice. It’s been a long time. How’s the family?”
“Brice, you don’t have to bother with the niceties. If a prince calls my line, I drop what I’m doing.” Simon is the son of James. James, the son of Louis. And for many generations the Linfield family is the first call my family makes when they need something done off the record. From what I understand there have been dozens of issues over the years the Linfields had solved for us. None happened without my father knowing.
“What can I do for you?” His voice was gritty but patient, likely out of duty.
“I need to know more about a company. It’s operating in the building I’m renting a floor on in Boston.”
“Do you think it’s a security threat?”
Shit. I recognize the concerned tone and quickly dismiss it. “Nothing like that. Likely harmless. I did a little recon on my own, and as far as I can tell it’s a shell company. What I don’t know is what they’re trying to hide.”
“Hmm.” Simon sounds intrigued. “And perhaps they’re just there for intel on your family? Could be something nefarious. In the same building? It’s close access to you. I’ll send some extra men your way today.”
“I have one guard here already, and that’s one more than I need. These people are no threat to me. They’ve made no contact at all with me.”
Simon lets out an unconvinced hum. “Then why are they on your radar?”
“It’s complicated. I came across a woman who plans to deal with Jana Monroe Enterprise. The story she told doesn’t sound right. I poked around a bit and found the shell company and the bogus website. That’s why my antenna went up.”
“What woman?”
“Unimportant.”
“No detail is unimportant when it comes to possible security breaches. I’m sure your father would agree.” Simon makes some kind of clicking noise with his tongue.
“My father is a busy man with more to worry about than some stranger I barely know and a company I don’t plan to do business with. If I thought for a moment this had any serious implications for myself or the family, I would alert you to that. It’s nothing more than my curiosity. We won’t make this bigger than it needs to be.”
“The woman. I’d at least like her name. I want to run her information too. You two crossing paths could be a setup. Maybe she’s an actress. Associated with this Jana Monroe. Trying an angle to get close to you.”
I chuckle at the idea that Savannah’s playing me. She has no poker face. Is a complete mess. No one is that good of an actress. “Fine. You won’t find anything scandalous or dangerous on her. If she wants to kill me she had her shot last night.”
“What’s that mean?”
I grunt out a dismissive laugh. “Her name is Savannah Barre. She’s from Maine. I’m pretty sure this company has lured her here for some reason. She’s their mark. I had some contact with her when we were stuck in the elevator and she didn’t have anywhere to go because her purse was stolen. If this Jana Monroe company does mean her some kind of harm, I don’t want our name getting mixed up with any of that. I’m calling so you can get me the intel and I can get out ahead of it.”
“Good call. But I’d like to do more than just pass you the information.”
“That’s all I want to happen. Do you understand?”
“So you said, it’s Jana Monroe Enterprises? I’m looking at the same thing. Definitely trying to shield their real intention. Their web
site encryption is quite sophisticated. Where it asks you to sign up for their monthly newsletter, it’s actually looking for a password. Not sure how people get the password, but that must unlock more in the site.” Simon pauses, and I wonder if he’s going to crack this code right while we’re on the line.
“I need this information pretty quickly.”
“Is the girl with you?”
“No, she’s with Charles.”
“So you spotted Charles?” Simon chuckles. “I figured it wouldn’t be too long before you realized your father wasn’t letting you wander the streets of Boston on your own. You’re all the talk here. The son who keeps defying his father but won’t say why.”
“I’m glad I can be of entertainment to you all.”
“Are you really going to keep everyone in the dark? You’ve run off to Boston and buried yourself in some work that doesn’t seem to need to be done at all. Your family has everything it needs.”
“Have you found anything yet?”
He clears his throat, realizing he’s put a toe over the line and better step back quick. “I’m going into the dark web now. If there is some kind of gatekeeper, there’s a chance the only way to access it is there.”
I let him stew for a long moment in his concern about insulting me. I could let him off the hook, but I’m hoping it might be enough to get him to keep his mouth shut about this entire exchange.
“I’m not seeing much on the dark web. Some chatter amongst some men. Asking questions about what the company really is. If it’s an escort agency and how they can get in touch.”
“Escorts?”
“No one seems to answer affirmatively. One man said he found a business card from Jana Monroe at his date’s house one night, but he didn’t pay her for anything. He also said there was no phone number on it either. Which he thought was weird. It gets a little slimy from there. A bunch of bros trying to impress each other.”
“But there is no contact site? No way to get in touch with anyone there? That’s impossible. How do you run a business of any kind without a digital presence?”
Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3) Page 6