Rook Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  “What is this?” she asked, she stopped backing up when he started closing the distance between them. She didn’t need to be getting farther away from Rook.

  “Don’t be scared,” he said, in what was supposed to be a soothing voice. “I’m just here to give you a gift.”

  “From Bastone?” she asked, her throat dry and her voice cracking.

  “Ah, so I see you’ve got my boss on your mind the same way he’s got you on his. He’ll be glad to know that.”

  There was something hollow about the man standing in front of her. He was substantial, almost as built as Sequence was, but there was no life behind his eyes. He looked like an automaton. A approximation of a human. He had bright blue eyes and looked vaguely like Frank Sinatra. He wore a suit that, on closer look, was rumpled and greasy around the collar. His skin was dry and slightly red in places and Naomi could tell he needed a shave. If she’d seen this man on the train, she would have chosen not to sit next to him.

  “What—what do you mean?” All she could think to do was stall for time and hope that Rook came to look for her.

  “He loves you, Miss Cutler.” The man took another step toward her. “But you disappeared and he’s starting to get impatient. He’s a patient man. But he won’t wait forever.”

  “He doesn’t have to wait. He can move on.”

  The man laughed but there was no humor in it. It was like dry leaves husking past one another. “That’s not what I meant, Naomi.”

  Then he was closing the distance between them and Naomi was flinching, flattening against the wall and throwing her arms around her belly. Something got shoved into her hands and then the hallway was empty. She didn’t even see the way he went.

  Naomi blinked down at the jewelry box in her hands, her vision alternating between blurry and hyper focus.

  She stumbled down the hall and into the waiting room. Any other time, she would have found the looks the other women were giving Rook to be humorous. He looked like a member of the secret service, standing at one end of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. She could tell that half the women were eyeing him lustily, and the other half eyed Naomi with pity, feeling for her that her supposed baby-daddy was obviously such a hard ass.

  But those were things she’d think about later. Now, the only thing she could do was stumble toward Rook, the jewelry box extended.

  “Naomi?” he started toward her.

  And then blurriness came back. Full force. It didn’t subside. She stumbled forward, into Rook’s arms and into blackness.

  ***

  Sequence rubbed hard at his eyes as he checked the bunker’s security feeds for the fortieth time in the last half hour. Naomi still hadn’t moved from her room. Which was good. Maybe. It either meant she was resting or hiding. She’d been cleared by a doctor four hours ago and they did two bait and switches with different Rook security vehicles in parking garages to make sure they weren’t followed back to Rook’s bunker.

  But at this point, Sequence wasn’t sure it was worth the hassle. It was clear that Bastone had somehow hacked Naomi’s digital information. He’d known she was going to be at that appointment. They just didn’t know how he knew. Most likely, he’d hacked her gmail account or her apple cal accounts, which no doubt would lead the hacker to a plethora of information regarding her interactions with Rook Securities over the last few months. Which, of course, would mean that they most likely knew she was being held here at the bunker.

  Sequence had used every trick in the book to keep her information safe. He had no idea how it had been hacked. And he hated it. He hated being outsmarted. He hated being in the dark. And more than anything, he hated the fact that he’d promised her he’d keep her safe and he hadn’t followed through.

  For the millionth time, he asked himself why the hell Rook had been in the waiting room and not in the hallway. If he’d been in the hallway, there was no way Blue Eyes would have attempted to confront her. Or given her that damn present.

  Apparently Naomi had awoken from her dead faint after they’d transferred her to gurney and raced her through the hospital complex to the ER. She’d been evaluated and discharged no worse for the wear. Apparently, she’d gotten back to the bunker exhausted and shaken up and had gone immediately to bed.

  Sequence wouldn’t know, though, because as soon as Naomi had woken up she’d spouted her story to Rook. Rook had contacted Sequence and thus began the ten-hour deep dive he’d done into Naomi’s accounts to resecure them and his intensive, and illegal, look into Blue Eyes’s last few years. What he’d learned had disturbed him.

  But not as much as what he was currently learning about Bastone. Sequence didn't let himself jump to conclusions. He checked the records three times, making sure he was right. Then he cross-referenced through news story after news story. Each one more gruesome than the last. He scrolled through the RIP messages on facebook pages and the “can you help us find her” kickstarter websites.

  Sequence stared in horror at his computer screen, unwilling to let his mind imagine Naomi in the place of the women he was reading about.

  Before he fully made the decision, he was snapping his laptop closed, tucking it under his arm and sprinting through the bunker. He burst into Rook’s office without knocking.

  “He’s done this before. It’s a pattern.”

  “What?” Rook looked up, completely blearily, tearing his eyes from his own computer screen. It was only then that Sequence registered just how late it was. Past midnight and they were both still burning the midnight oil over this.

  “Bastone. It’s a pattern with him. She’s not the first woman he’s targeted like this.”

  Rook squeezed the bridge of his nose and beckoned for Sequence to come in. “Tell me.”

  Sequence pulled the laptop from under his arm and showed Rook what he’d found. None of it was much more than a game of connect the dots. Bastone was careful to not have been linked to the three women who’d shown up dead or missing over the last ten years.

  “I don’t understand, how do you know he had anything to do with these women?” Rook asked.

  “Naomi mentioned that Bastone used Ellsworth’s business for gem appraisal only. He doesn’t use them to sell the gems and he doesn’t use them for any jewelry making he might commission. She told me once he uses this store in the diamond district, Klein’s. I hacked their accounts and sure enough, there’s a hearty client file under Francesca Peretti.”

  Rook raised an eyebrow, waiting for Sequence to explain. It was too late to be asking questions. Rook was utterly exhausted, he’d spent most of the day alternating between beating himself up over leaving Naomi unprotected and terrified that his inattentiveness had led to some sort of complication with her pregnancy. He’d never been more relieved in his life than when she and the baby had been deemed healthy and sent home.

  “Francesca Peretti was his mother’s name. She had a client account with Klein’s. And whether it was nostalgic on Bastone’s part, or if he’s trying to keep a low profile, I don’t know. But all his business gets filed under her account name still.” Sequence accessed the Klein’s database with enviable skill, pulling up pictures and client information. “You can see here that in the last decade, there have been tons of jewelry commissioned for the Peretti account. I followed the threads of each piece of jewelry. Three of them have been designed, engraved, and then couriered to the addresses of three women who’ve gone missing or died. He’s connected to whatever happened to those women. I just know it.”

  Sequence took a deep breath and pulled up the most recent purchase. “Here, you can see that a month ago, Bastone had another piece of jewelry commissioned and that it was handed over to him yesterday. He would know by now that she’s not staying at her house, which was why he had Blue Eyes storm her at her appointment and hand it over personally.”

  “Does the file say what the jewelry looked like?”

  Sequence scrolled down in the file. “Ruby necklace. A choker. Apparently there’s a spe
cial kind of clasp where the necklace can only be taken off with a key.”

  Rook sighed and turned his own computer so that Sequence could see the screen. On it were photographs of a necklace that fit that exact description. Ruby choker that only Bastone could unlock. Bile and revulsion rose in Sequence’s throat.

  “As soon as I handed Naomi over to the ER, I handed her present over to my buddy who works on the bomb squad,” Rook told Sequence, looking more tired than ever. The reason that Rook had a buddy on the bomb squad was because of a maniac who’d tried to kill Elena with a car bomb last year. “He cleared it for anything dangerous. Sent these pictures over. Says it’s just a necklace.”

  “No note?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fuck.” Sequence buried his face in his hands and felt completely helpless. Keeping Naomi here had seemed like a viable, reasonable option before. Maybe even a little bit of overkill. Not anymore. Now, it seemed very much like the only possible way to keep her safe. Sequence felt, for the first time in his career at Rook Securities, that he had met his match in terms of hackers. Whoever was hacking for Bastone knew exactly how to break through all the firewalls that Sequence had put into place to keep Naomi’s information safe. And now she was unsafe. Fainting in the doctor’s office after a mysterious appointment. Coming face to face with an unstable Blue Eyes. She was upstairs and alone and probably terrified and Sequence couldn’t even do his damn job right when it came to her. Was there nothing he wouldn’t mess up?

  “Have you seen her yet?” Rook asked.

  Sequence brought his hands down off his face and shook his head.

  “Go see her,” Rook insisted.

  Sequence squinted at the clock on the wall. “It’s past midnight.”

  Rook shrugged. “If she’s sleeping, it’ll do you good to see her peaceful and safe. If she’s awake, she’ll probably be glad for the company after the day she’s had.”

  Sequence paused. “I should get back to work. There’s so much to uncover with Bastone.”

  “And there will be tomorrow, when you’re back on duty. You’re no good to me if you burn out, Sequence. And no offense, but you look like the microwaved corpse version of yourself right now. Go see your girl and get a good night’s sleep.”

  Something skipped in Sequence’s chest. Rook had called Naomi his girl. Like they were together. He stood, but paused, unsure if he should be correcting the record with his boss.

  “Oh, Jesus. Go check on her already. You can fret about the relationship labels another time. Freaking millennials.”

  The last part Rook muttered to himself, but Sequence heard it just fine. Half of him wanted to sprint out the door and do exactly what Rook was telling him to do. But the other half of him kept him rooted to the spot. There was something here he needed to clear up.

  “You’re telling me that you wouldn’t fire me if I was involved with her?”

  Rook dragged a hand over his face and opened his mouth to say something. A moment later, he snapped his mouth back closed, looking like he was changing tactics. “Haven’t you already gotten involved?”

  Sequence shrugged, unable to answer that. Yes, he’d slept with Naomi, no they weren’t together. Did that make them involved?

  “Way I see it, if Atlas had a girlfriend and she found herself in trouble, would we refuse to protect her just because she and Atlas were together? No. I’m not happy that you hooked up with her the technical second she wasn’t a client. But it’s done now. If you two… end up involved, I won’t fire you. If I thought you were just gonna hit it and quit it again, that’s another story. But I can see that’s not the case.”

  Sequence nodded like he understood, but in reality, he was exhausted, he was pumping adrenaline, and he was anxious to make sure that Naomi was all right. He’d have time to contemplate Rook’s words later.

  For now, he wanted to see Naomi. Sequence considered stopping at the kitchen to gather some of the foods she’d been eating, as he knew that she hadn’t had dinner yet. But he figured that if she really was awake and she really did want something to eat, he’d come back down for her.

  Sequence stood for a moment outside of Naomi’s door, his hands flexing and stretching at his sides. He took a deep breath, and on the exhale, he just rested his forehead against the wooden door.

  A long time ago, when the team had been guarding Elena at the bunker, he and Swift had gone to Elena’s apartment to find that someone had completely trashed it. Sequence would never forget the look on Swift’s face as they sifted through every smashed wine glass, the torn curtains, the cushions slashed to shreds. Swift had done his job, cataloguing their client’s incident. But he’d been a tense, wired madman on the drive home.

  Whenever Swift and Sequence were alone together, barely a word passed between them. They were friendly and companionable, but neither of them were big talkers. But that night, on the drive home, Swift had talked aloud, to himself, to God, Sequence wasn’t quite sure.

  “I just have to see her,” he’d said. “Just gotta know she’s safe. She’s safe. I know it. She’s in the bunker, she’s safe. But I gotta see her.”

  To Sequence, that had been irrational behavior. Of course Elena had been safe. There was no safer place in New York City than the Rook Securities bunker. But still, Swift was shaken the fuck up by the sight of her destroyed apartment. He was imagining what would have happened to Elena if she’d been there, at the apartment, when the attacker had arrived. And because of how much he cared about Elena, he couldn’t shake the horror of that averted future until he saw Elena, until he held her in his arms, personally verified her safety.

  Sequence had understood intellectually. But he’d never understood emotionally. Not until this very moment, his forehead on the cool wood of Naomi’s door. His heartbeat finally started to slow for the first time all day. She was safe inside that room. And he was there at her door physically standing between her and the rest of the world. He’d failed at protecting her information. But he wouldn’t fail at protecting her person.

  It was then that Sequence knew he’d lay down in traffic for her if he had to. Taking a bullet for a client was an old bodyguard cliche, but Sequence would do it for her. He was never a personal guard for their clients. He had no interest in personally interacting with them. That was Atlas’s job, and Geo’s, and occasionally Swift or Rook’s job. For the first time, Sequence wanted to take their places. He wanted to attach himself to Naomi’s every move. He wanted to lay out next to her in bed, between her body and the door. He wanted to check rooms for hostiles before she entered them. He’d wrap her in bubble wrap if she’d let him.

  Sequence’s eyes came open against the door. He realized, all at once, that what he was describing to himself was bodyguarding, yes. But more than anything, it was boyfriending. Not that most boyfriends checked rooms for hostiles or wrapped their girlfriends in bubble wrap, unless it was a kinky thing, but that was Sequence’s version of it. He didn’t want to be her bodyguard because it was his job, he wanted to be her bodyguard because to him, Naomi Cutler was the most precious thing on planet Earth.

  He thought of Bastone’s blue diamond, one of the rarest kinds of gems that existed. He thought of Naomi’s ruby hair, those sapphire eyes, her pearly teeth. He thought of her colors, her laugh, her smile. How she babbled when she was excited or nervous or happy.

  He realized that in addition to his forehead against the door, he had both palms there too. His head bowed, his hands out, he was standing outside her door, asking the universe for another chance with her. Like an absolute fool, he’d wasted his first chance with her. He’d never waste another.

  Sequence heard a noise in her room and realized that either she’d just turned on a movie, or she’d unplugged her headphones from her laptop, because he could hear dialogue. He recognized it as the movie they’d watched together the other week. Her comfort movie. It made sense that she’d need to watch it tonight. A second later, he heard footsteps across her floor.

 
Sequence knocked gently, not wanting to scare her. “Naomi?”

  He swung the door open and turned into a man made of stone, one hand on the doorknob, his eyes glued to her.

  Naomi swung around, her shock scored into every line of her face. She stood in the middle of her room, completely naked except for a pair of purple panties. She’d obviously been watching her movie and applying lotion to her body. It was still all over her hands and legs.

  At first, Sequence had frozen because he’d walked in on her naked. His eyes had automatically fallen to her gorgeous breasts. But then his eyes had kept on falling. And time stopped, including his breath and heart. He was utterly frozen. Staring at this unbelievably gorgeous woman lit softly by her bedside lamp. Unable to tear his eyes from her obviously pregnant belly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Shoot! Shootshootshoot. Oh my god,” Naomi spouted as she turned and scampered across the bedroom. She slammed and locked the bathroom door behind her on total reflex.

  She leaned against the door and breathed jaggedly, her heart banging in her chest. Blood rushed in her head and she started to feel dizzy again. The doctor in the ER had told her that no lasting damage had been done when she’d fainted today, but that she needed to find a way to keep her stress low. She needed to calm the hell down.

  She slid down the door, and tried to take yoga breaths. But how the hell could she calm down when she’d just inadvertently told Sequence she was pregnant via flashing him the goods.

  Thank god she’d had panties on because bush was the only thing that could have possibly made this worse.

  Naomi didn’t necessarily feel bad about what had just happened, but she certainly felt raw and exposed and shocked. Like a plucked chicken. Earlier today, she’d resolved to tell Sequence that she was pregnant. Then the whole thing with Blue Eyes and the present had happened and she’d figured it could wait until tomorrow. She’d planned to tell him calmly, with a cup of tea in her hands and a table in between them. She’d practiced her speech in the shower earlier that night.