“Later, Gator,” he said, and dipped out of the apartment.
***
It had only been a week off of work, but Atlas was extremely glad to see his peeps again. They were like his family. All the members of Rook Security felt that way. They were a tight-knit group. Which was part of the reason why they were such an effective security team.
Their firm was headquartered in a converted warehouse in the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn. They were right on the East River with a pretty stellar view of Manhattan, but the neighborhood itself was desolate. There were a smattering of abandoned factories and warehouses on each block, more squatters than renters. But that’s the way they liked it. Their building, which they all referred to as the bunker, was as secure as humanly possible.
When he’d started Rook Securities, Javier Rook had used every last dime to ensure that there was every single security measure possible. Which meant that the bunker didn’t look like much on the outside, just a warehouse surrounded by a few layers of barbed-wire fencing, but on the inside, it was the most secure location in New York City.
There was an inner atrium, where Atlas was just parking his car. Lining that was a track and on one side, their gym and locker room. Lining the walls of the atrium were walls of windows where their private offices and hallways looked down into the main area. There was also a top-of-the-line kitchen, a game room, and a TV room in addition to the offices.
But the thing that made the Rook Securities bunker extremely cool was that it was equipped for a total lockdown. Each member had their personal quarters in the bunker and about once or twice a year, they took on a client who required 24-hour protection. The client stayed in one of the two crow’s nests at the top of the warehouse and the rest of the team stayed on non-stop watch, protecting them from whoever they might be in danger from.
They hadn’t had to do full lockdown since Naomi, Atlas’s sister-in-law, had been in danger from the gangster, Frank Bastone, last year.
Normally, Atlas didn’t much mind being on lockdown with a client. Except for the fact that it was impossible to pick up women, everything else suited him just fine. He had a place to exercise, a place to play games, to watch TV. And he had all the most important people in his life right there.
Although, the thought of lockdown now vaguely worried him. Something told him that if he had to disappear for a month, when he got back, Bex would be long gone.
As Atlas jogged up to the meeting room on the third floor, he hoped that Rook wasn’t about to tell them all that they were signed up for a lockdown.
“Hey, party people,” Atlas crowed, sliding into the rolling chair that he always claimed. He twirled a 360 in it, watching the faces of his colleagues spin past.
There was his brother, Sequence, frowning as usual. And next to him was Cedric Swift, his auburn hair and handsome face tipped sideways onto his fist as he rested with his eyes closed. And then there was Savannah Georgia, or Geo, sitting cross-legged on the windowsill, watching Atlas twirl.
Lastly, at the head of the table, was Javier Rook. The owner of Rook Securities, the big guns, the big daddy, the big kahuna with the big cajones. Atlas couldn’t help but laugh at where his brain had just taken him.
Then he stopped spinning and did a double take at Rook. He’d known the guy for half a decade and he’d never, ever seen him looking so relaxed.
“Whoa,” Atlas said. “You look… chill.”
Rook’s lips twitched as he started passing out iPads to the group, ready to get the meeting started. “A week of vacation will do that.”
“Bullshit,” Geo said as she joined the group at the table. No one else on their team would have been so insubordinate to Rook, but maybe because Geo was the only woman, or maybe because she was just Geo, but she always got away with saying whatever she wanted to. “A vacation with your ex-wife and her boyfriend? You were dreading it for weeks. No way you’re this relaxed unless something happened.”
Rook cleared his throat. “Actually it was a vacation with my ex-wife and her ex-boyfriend.”
The group broke out into a minor, whooping ruckus. They were all very much aware of how much Rook had hated May’s Ken-doll-looking boyfriend. He was the first significant other that either of them had had since their divorce, and his presence in May’s life had given Rook a few gray hairs.
“You broke them up?” Swift asked incredulously.
“Of course not!” Rook paused as if he were assessing the truth to that statement. “He was a dick to Ricky, May blew a gasket.”
Ricky was May and Rook’s fourteen-year-old daughter. Both May and Rook were extremely protective over her. If this guy really had been rude to her, there was no doubt he would have bought himself a one-way ticket to the land of the dumped.
“Enough about that. Let’s go over our week.” Rook flicked on his iPad and into the scheduling app that they all used, but Atlas couldn’t help but notice the little crinkle around his boss’s eyes. Rook was happy, relieved that May was single again.
The meeting coasted by. It was going to be an easy week. Their main client at the moment was a banker by the name of Cliff Dodd. He’d had a rather meteoric rise in the financial world and had made some enemies along the way. He was in the market for full-time bodyguards. That wasn’t exactly what they did at Rook Securities, taking on long-term jobs like that. More often than not, they took on clients in crises, helping them back to a place where they would eventually need minimal to zero protection. They’d agreed, however, to work with Dodd for a few weeks in order to help assess his personal security needs. At that point, they’d pass the day-to-day operations off to a different firm.
It was an unusual model in the personal security world, but Atlas could see why Rook had set his company up in this manner.
Underneath Rook’s gruff exterior was a big old bleeding heart. With this model, they could help more people who really needed it. Atlas didn’t mind one bit, it kept their days varied and never had them lingering too long on one particular client.
Except for one. They had one long-term client. He also happened to be one of the most famous men to walk the earth. Moreau Davy was a movie star, a philanthropist, and most recently, a humanitarian. And he could be a real pain in the ass. He had mixed reviews amongst the security team.
“And what’s the deal with Davy this month?” Swift asked, leaning back on the two legs of his chair.
Davy often oscillated between LA and New York. When he was in California, he had a different security team that went with him to high profile events and whatever movie set he was working on. When he was in New York, he worked with Rook. Over the last year or so, he’d even given up his Gramercy apartment, choosing instead to stay in the Rook Securities bunker whenever he had to come to the Big Apple.
Atlas didn’t understand why someone would choose to do that, but he wasn’t complaining. It made protecting him a hell of a lot easier if his ass was plunked down in the most secure building in New York.
“He’s gonna be here for a few days toward the end of the month, but I guess he’s got a lot of movie premieres out in LA,” Rook replied.
“So, we’re gonna need to be on night watch with him at the end of the month?” Atlas asked. If Moreau was holed up at the bunker, there always needed to be a member of the team here with him, which meant, inevitably, that Atlas was going to have to stay here and not at his apartment.
Which made him think of Bex.
So much had changed in a week already. By the end of the month would he be comfortable leaving her alone for the night in the house? He wondered what she was doing right that second. His knee started bouncing when he looked at his watch and realized that it had been three hours since he’d talked to her. Three hours since he’d checked on her. She could have been two states away by now if she’d left right after he did.
She hadn’t seemed like she was planning on leaving. He should have taken a sick day and stayed with her. At least until he was certain that she wasn’t going anyw
here.
“Dude,” Sequence said from beside him when the meeting wrapped up. “Are you sick or something? You look like shit.”
Leave it to his brother not to sugarcoat it.
“You know, they say a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
Sequence smirked. “So does holding your nose so that you can’t breathe until you swallow the medicine.”
“Are you threatening to suffocate me unless I tell you what’s wrong?”
“Nope.” Sequence rose up, pushing his chair back, done with the conversation.
Atlas, undeterred, caught up to him in the hallway. Sequence had some recon work to do on Cliff Dodd’s situation, and Atlas had to meet Dodd across town in an hour, but the brothers strode, side by side, down to the gym. They always liked to get their blood flowing after a meeting and they both had at least a half an hour before they had to get back to work.
They changed quickly and hopped onto treadmills side by side, pressing the buttons at the exact same time. Most of the time, both of them thought all the mystic-twin stuff was total crap. But every once in a while, they said the same thing at the same time. Or both got a cramp at the exact same moment, or sneezed in sync. Atlas upped the speed on his treadmill, just to piss Sequence off. It worked.
“I’m stressing about my new roommate,” Atlas confessed.
Sequence frowned. “Roommate? What you need a roommate for? Money trouble?”
Atlas frowned too. It made him sad that his brother’s mind went there so quickly. But he knew it wasn’t because Sequence didn’t trust Atlas to mind his money, they were both pretty frugal. It was because their childhoods had taught their brains to jump, inevitably, to the worst possible conclusion.
“Nah. Not at all. It wasn’t planned. She’s just a friend of mine who needed a place to stay and I’ve got the extra room…”
“She’s a she? And she’s staying in the extra room?”
“We’re just friends.”
Sequence didn’t say anything to that.
Atlas ran for a few minutes. “I think she’s in trouble, and I’m kinda worried that when I get home, she’ll be gone.”
“Call her. Check in. If she doesn’t answer, have Naomi duck over and check in. Oh. That reminds me. You’re invited over for dinner tomorrow.”
“Can I bring Bex?”
Sequence nodded.
Atlas turned off his treadmill and pulled out his phone. He got the strangest feeling, like déjà vu in reverse.
Like this was the first time he was calling to check in on Bex, and there were a thousand more times just waiting around the corner.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was half the day since Atlas had left for work and Rebecca still felt a little discombobulated at having seen him in his work clothes. So far this week she’d seen him wear a bugs bunny tank top, purple corduroy pants, a white t-shirt with a bouquet of roses printed on the back, a pair of perfectly normal jeans that he’d rolled up to his knees when he’d gotten hot, a pink and green plaid button-down short-sleeve, and the list went on. She simply hadn’t been prepared to see him in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, his hair combed back for work.
He’d looked so… something. She couldn’t put her finger on it. But she’d walked into the kitchen to see him leaning against the counter, reading something on his phone and eating half a peanut butter bagel, and she’d nearly swallowed her tongue.
Atlas was usually playful and silly and disarming and childlike. But at that moment, he’d been nothing but man.
It had made Rebecca feel skittish and warm and strange. When he’d looked up and smiled his usual grin in her direction, she hadn’t been able to do anything but nod. And then he’d turned around to fill a glass of juice and she’d seen the outline of his white undershirt underneath the dress shirt and she’d jetted out of the kitchen and started cleaning the apartment.
For some reason, seeing the clothes that Atlas wore underneath his clothes, well, it made her nervous. And it also made her extremely aware of the fact that she’d been wearing the same oversized t-shirt and leggings for the last week. She’d washed them every night, but still.
For the last six months, she’d carefully, carefully funneled all of her tips into a bank account. Not wanting to keep cash on her at the shelter, she’d deposited her cash every single day. Keeping just a few bucks to get herself dinner that night.
She knew that she didn’t have more than a few hundred dollars in her account. Most of her clients weren’t nearly as generous as Atlas was. Her goal had been to get to $2000. Then, she’d be able to find some group living situation where she could conceivably pay first and last month’s rent and not bring her account back to zero.
But now, she’d fallen into a completely random living situation where she didn’t have to worry about that at the moment. So… maybe she could spare a few bucks for a few changes of clothes?
Nothing fancy. But it couldn’t be considered exorbitant to want more than one pair of underwear.
So, after she’d gotten his house completely in order, she decided to go out. Her debit card was brand new, having never swiped it before. She kept it in the little pocket of her leggings, her phone jammed in there as well, and Atlas’s keys.
The April wind was chilly today and Rebecca wondered if she’d have enough money to buy a sweater as well.
Ten blocks later and she was at her destination. A secondhand store that she’d spotted a few days ago. She spent an hour combing through the racks and came up with a fairly decent haul. For thirty bucks, she suddenly had a week’s worth of clothes. Next, she ducked into the CVS and bought a ten pack of underwear. The men’s extra small briefs were cheaper than any of the women’s underwear so she went with that.
Two hours later she was pulling all her new clothes out of the dryer and folding them one by one. A smile tugged at her lips. All the clothes were simple and casual, clothes she could clean houses in. But they were hers. Bought with her own money. And they were clean.
Knowing it was silly, she couldn’t stop herself from changing into a new outfit. She’d just tugged on a pair of thin jeggings and a roomy purple t-shirt when her phone chirped on her nightstand.
“Hello?” she answered Atlas’s call, breathless.
“Whatcha doin?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously. What’s got you so out of breath?” He paused. “Did I… interrupt some personal time, Bex?”
“Personal ti—No! Atlas!”
He chuckled. “Then what were you doing?”
“None of your beeswax.”
He chuckled again and Rebecca sat on the edge of her bed. If you’d told her two weeks ago that she’d be talking to Atlas on the phone, making him laugh, teasing him, she’d have taken the first bus out of New York City. She knew that she couldn’t afford these kinds of entanglements. But she also couldn’t turn away from it. There she was, sitting on the edge of a bed in his home. Like she was glued there.
“Gonna be home in a few hours,” he told her.
She frowned at the wall. “You don’t have to tell me that, it’s your house.”
“I’m trying to give you a little warning so you don’t look at me like I’m breaking in. You know, that thing where you jump three feet in the air and cover your mouth so you don’t scream.”
She grimaced. It was true that she was still very much getting used to living in the same place as a huge, tattooed man. More often than not, she did find herself jumping when she realized that he was in the same room or walking toward her or reaching out toward her.
“No promises on that one,” she said eventually.
“Fair enough.”
***
“I’m home!” Atlas called through the house, standing in his front entryway, toeing off his shoes. He’d meant what he’d said on the phone with her. He was tired of scaring the daylights out of her.
He paused, takeout containers in one hand, and waited
for her to call back to him. But he was met only with silence.
“Bex!” he hollered, one ear cocked. “I said, I’m home!”
Something tripped down his spine. He should have texted her in the last few hours. They hadn’t talked since lunchtime. That had given her approximately five hours to freak out and change her mind and blow dodge. Shit. He set the food down and dug his phone out of his pocket. He had to call her. He dialed her phone number, praying she would answer.
He turned and jolted when he saw her leaning against the doorway to the living room. She was halfway hidden, her cheek resting on the wood, her hair in her eyes. She wore a new outfit. Tight pants, a loose shirt, and big, bunchy socks. The sole of her foot rested on the opposite knee as she watched him with eyes he hadn’t realized were quite that large.
Her bruises were fading, he realized. He hadn’t noticed because the changes had been gradual, but just leaving her alone for the day and coming home, he could see how different she looked than last week. Even her face was just a tiny bit rounder, as if the week of meals he’d provided had breathed softness into her. Color and light.
“Your shirt is purple,” was what came out of his mouth, even though there were a million things he could have said.
She raised her eyebrows at his observation.
“And you’re wearing clothes,” was the second half of his brilliant statement.
Her eyebrows went up even further. “You were expecting otherwise?”
“No. I mean you’re wearing new clothes. You went shopping?”
Her head turned as her phone began to ring from her room but Atlas held up his own phone, ending the call. “That’s just me.”
“You came home and called me?” She looked confused.
“I thought you weren’t here when you didn’t call back to me.”
“Oh.” Her teeth played with her lips and she seemed to hide herself behind the doorjamb even further.
Atlas stepped forward, definitely into her four-foot bubble, and she stiffened but didn’t pull away. Unable to help himself, he tugged at the sleeve of her oversized shirt, careful not to touch her skin. He knew she wouldn’t like that. “Bex, tell me you went shopping.”
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