Protection for Hire

by Camy Tang

  “Have you heard the rumor about the new deal they’re about to make?”

  Mr. Greer frowned deeply. “Lots of rumors. No way to know what’s true and what’s not. But we can safely guess it’s a very big deal going down — maybe already a done deal — with a lot of money at stake.” Mr. Greer shook his head. “Turnbull’s only a small fish at Stillwater. I highly doubt this has anything to do with his divorce.”

  Charles wasn’t entirely sure. When he considered the lengths Heath was going to in order to get Elizabeth back — or maybe shut her up permanently — it seemed to point to something more at stake than Heath’s marriage or pride. However, he couldn’t prove anything concrete. Even Tessa mentioned that she couldn’t prove anything definitive with the two tails. But being attacked near her mama’s house by two of the same men who were with Heath seemed to show how serious this all was.

  “This is all highly irregular —” Charles started to say, but Mr. Greer interrupted him.

  “Yes, it’s unusual to have a deposition this early, but the only one who would be losing out would be Augustine. When does he want to have it?”

  “He’s been leaving messages, wanting it done in the next week or two.” The man’s pushiness bordered on urgency. Typically, it took a month or two to schedule a deposition because of the lawyers’ schedules.

  “Then just schedule it,” Mr. Greer said. “Get it over with. What’ll happen is that Augustine will give something away in his own words — he always does.”

  “I’m a bit concerned for my client’s safety. It’s another reason I’ve been fighting the deposition.”

  “Safety?” Mr. Greer looked almost affronted. “What makes you say that?”

  “Ms. St. Amant’s bodyguard has said there’s been some … suspicious activity around her client, and most of it points back to Mr. Turnbull.”

  “Well, if she has a bodyguard, then she should be perfectly safe at the deposition. However, I commend you for your caution.”

  Mr. Greer turned to go, but turned back at the doorway to say, “I must confess, I’ve been extraordinarily pleased with your work on this case, Charles. I’m sure Rick will agree with me that you display all the intelligent and diligent qualities of a partner of this law firm.” He almost smiled.

  Then he was gone.

  For a moment, Charles was a scrawny seventh grader again, playing on the school football team. The only reason he’d tried out was because his father had forced him to, saying he was too weak and needed toughening up.

  He’d run out, looking over his shoulder, but not expecting the quarterback to throw to him … and suddenly the ball had landed in his hands.

  He’d frozen. He couldn’t believe it. Not just that the quarterback had thrown him the ball, but that he’d actually caught it. Then he’d registered the screaming crowd — of twelve people — and he’d run as fast as he could toward the goal line. It was the first and only touchdown he ever made.

  He felt like that now.

  Rick looked stunned. “That was completely surreal. Was that really Manchester Greer? Not his evil twin brother?”

  “I would think an evil twin brother would fire me, not compliment me.”

  “Compliment? Compliment? That was practically a promise you’ll make partner if he has any say in the matter — and oh, since he’s one of the firm’s biggest rainmakers, he can practically pick the new partners himself. What did you do to get on his good side? Did you slip happy pills into his coffee or something?”

  “Is it so impossible that I might actually be doing a good job?”

  “Since your IQ is a half step above Bert and Ernie, yes.”

  “Let me guess. Sesame Street marathon this past weekend?”

  Rick groaned. “Last night. My youngest was feeling nostalgic. I haven’t been able to get ‘Rubber Ducky’ out of my head all day.”

  By tacit agreement, they went back to work, because even though Manchester Greer thought he didn’t need to research Stillwater Group, Charles didn’t want to go in to the deposition unprepared.

  The deposition nagged at him. Tessa wasn’t going to like it. Most likely it would be at Augustine’s law offices and they’d probably insist Tessa leave the room when they conducted the interview with Elizabeth.

  Charles admitted he didn’t like it either. It didn’t seem safe for Elizabeth. But Mr. Greer had ordered him to agree to the deposition, and he was technically the lead lawyer on this case.

  And after Mr. Greer dangled that carrot in front of Charles tonight, could he really afford not to do as he was told? He’d been at Pleiter & Woodhouse for almost eight years. If he didn’t make partner soon, he never would. And he hadn’t worked this hard, driven himself this hard, not to achieve his dream.

  The memory of the football game flashed in front of him again. Despite his touchdown, his team lost the game. Even after the touchdown, all his dad said was, “I’ll believe it’s not a fluke if you can do it again.”

  But he hadn’t.

  The memory dragged at him and tangled his soul like a weighted fishing net. He shook it off and concentrated on his computer screen.

  He was this close to a second touchdown. He wouldn’t screw it up.

  Chapter 17

  Eddie wants to do what?”

  Tessa was surprised at the disbelief in Charles’s voice. “Become a mixed martial arts fighter.”

  “Eddie? Happy-go-lucky Eddie?” Charles changed lanes as they drove toward Mr. Augustine’s law offices off of Geary Ave. “You really think he has the … aggressiveness to do this?”

  “The sport requires more than just aggressiveness.” Tessa watched the cars around them. As far as she could tell, they hadn’t been tailed. “It requires skill and quickness and strategy.”

  “Eddie has all that?”

  “From what I’ve seen when Tessa is teaching him, Eddie’s pretty good,” Elizabeth said from the backseat.

  “He’s very quick and he has good form,” Tessa said.

  “He’s not very tall,” Charles said.

  “In mixed martial arts, height doesn’t guarantee a win,” Tessa said. “A shorter man can take down a larger one and subdue him. It’s skill, not size.”

  “Maybe I should learn mixed martial arts,” Elizabeth mused. “I could learn to protect myself instead of relying on you and Tessa.”

  “Well, for today, stay close to me.” Tessa turned to Charles. “I don’t like this deposition thing at all. At all.”

  “Your objection is noted, Counselor,” Charles said dryly. “For the hundredth time.”

  She knew she was like a dog with a bone, but she didn’t care. “Elizabeth shouldn’t be forced to do this when it puts her in danger.”

  “I tried explaining it to you but your eyes started crossing —”

  “You need to take English lessons.”

  “You need a hearing aid.”

  “Children …” Elizabeth chided from the back seat.

  Tessa shook her head. “You couldn’t have simply refused? Fought him? Paid a fine or something?”

  Charles opened his mouth, then closed it. “It’s complicated,” he said. “It’s a legal procedure. It’ll be over soon.”

  “And you’re positive Heath won’t be there?” Tessa asked, with a glance at Elizabeth in the backseat.

  “It was the one thing I insisted on before agreeing to this deposition,” Charles said. “If Heath is there, we’re walking straight out.”

  At that moment, her cell phone rang. Tessa recognized the number — her sister. Should she answer? She was working. But what if it was important? Besides, she had an excuse to hang up right away. “Hello?”

  “You’re teaching your niece to punch people?!” Alicia demanded.

  “It’s mixed martial —”

  “It’s violence! All I asked you to do was watch Paisley for one afternoon while I went to that job interview, and I come home to find out you had her spar with a grown man. How do you know he wasn’t a pervert?”


  Tessa had a hard time following Alicia’s strident voice because she was still trying to keep track of the cars around them. “Eddie’s not a pervert. He’s Charles’s brother. He came to Charles’s house for his normal mixed martial arts lesson and Paisley was the one who wanted to spar with him.” Tessa actually thought Paisley had developed an instant crush on Eddie, but wisely refrained from telling Alicia that.

  Paisley had taken to mixed martial arts with gusto. A tentative suggestion on Tessa’s part had turned into a full hour of learning a few grappling moves and punches. She’d felt like a real aunt to her niece.

  “You are not to teach her any more of that stuff,” Alicia said.

  Tessa could hear Paisley in the background protesting, “Aw, Mom, but it’s fun!”

  Tessa kept her eye on a red Hyundai behind them, but it turned into a parking garage. “Don’t you want her to know how to take care of herself?” The years of being bullied and picked on in school because of her uncle’s connections had been painful. Only after Tessa had bloodied a few noses had people left her alone. She didn’t want Paisley to have to endure the same taunting and teasing.

  “I don’t want her to be getting into fights because her aunt makes her think she’s invincible,” Alicia said.

  Tessa said, “Paisley wouldn’t get into fights —”

  In the background: “Mom, I wouldn’t get into fights —”

  “You got into plenty of fights,” Alicia said to Tessa.

  “That was different.”

  “No, it’s not. And Paisley’s my daughter, not yours.”

  What could she say to that, really? It was true. Tessa’s dreams of bonding with her niece over an armbar or elbow chop dissipated.

  “No more fighting lessons, Tessa,” Alicia said, and slammed the phone down.

  Well, that was that.

  “That’s too bad,” Elizabeth said behind her. “Paisley was rather good too.”

  Tessa glanced sideways at Charles. What did he think about her teaching a thirteen-year-old mixed martial arts? Was he like Alicia, thinking it was too violent for her?

  “I’d expect Paisley to be good at it,” Charles said in a mild tone as he turned into a parking garage. “She’s got her aunt’s genes.”

  His words made a fluttering warmth blossom in her chest, but she had to damp it down in order to do her job. “Slow down, I want to see in between the cars.”

  Charles slowed the car to a crawl.

  Tessa craned her neck and scanned between the parked cars. She wasn’t about to allow Elizabeth to be attacked in an underground parking garage that didn’t even have a security booth.

  Charles maneuvered his Audi into a parking space and cut the engine.

  Elizabeth fumbled with her seatbelt. “Get me out of this car. Charles, you couldn’t stick a hamster in this back seat of yours.”

  “It’s a sports car, not a minivan. And the alternative was Gramps.”

  Elizabeth sighed but stopped complaining. Tessa would have put her in the front seat, but in order to protect her, Tessa needed to be the first person out of the car, and she needed a clear view all around them as they drove.

  This deposition worried her. According to Charles, it was just an interview with Elizabeth in front of a court reporter who would record the interview, but since Heath’s lawyer had ordered it, they had the say in where it took place. Tessa didn’t like not knowing the building and rooms they were walking into.

  This dark parking garage was her first obstacle. She held a hand out to make Elizabeth stay in the car while she looked around. No one in sight. She hadn’t seen anyone as they drove in either. The elevator up to the law offices was only a few short meters away.

  “Let’s hurry.” She hustled Elizabeth from the tiny car, through the garage, and into the elevators as fast as she could.

  “That’s a creepy garage,” Elizabeth whispered. “It reminds me of all those thriller movies where the hero gets jumped.”

  “I’d rather be vigilant than sorry.” Tessa’s bruise from the attack had faded until it was easy to disguise with makeup, which Elizabeth had helped her apply this morning. It was strange to have a girlfriend do up her face. Tessa had felt like she was fourteen again, except Elizabeth was a much nicer playmate than cranky Alicia.

  “Elizabeth, you’re sure you don’t know anything about Heath’s business?” Charles asked, probably for the twelfth time, as they rode the elevator to the lobby. “Do you have any idea — even a hunch about what they might want to talk to you about during this deposition?”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I could tell them exactly how many dinner parties Heath gave last year since I was hostess for all of them, but I never spoke to any of his clients about anything but current events and pop culture. I mostly chatted with their wives.”

  “And you don’t remember speaking to anyone in particular who wasn’t in that stack of photos I had you look at?”

  Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Charles, do you remember every person you ever met?”

  He looked sheepish and stopped interrogating her.

  Getting them through the lobby was stressful with all the people walking around. Tessa prevented anyone from getting too close to Elizabeth, but it required some fancy footwork and a bit of aggressive manhandling and body blocking. Soon they were heading up to the fourteenth floor where Mr. Augustine’s offices were.

  The furniture was flashy and expensive — modern shapes, smooth leather. The receptionist languidly rose from her chair and told them, “Follow me.”

  The first thing Tessa noticed when they entered the conference room was the large windows. Also, the conference table wasn’t in the middle of the room, but slightly off center. The court reporter’s station had been set up to the side, and it was obvious where Elizabeth was supposed to sit, right beside a large window with a neutral background behind her and a video recorder set up in front of her. The court reporter entered only a few seconds after they did and headed to her station.

  Tessa didn’t like that window. The view was magnificent, showcasing several beautiful San Francisco buildings around them, but it was too open. It left Elizabeth too exposed.

  Was this just her being uber-paranoid again? Did she really think someone would try to set up a sniper to shoot her client here, in this law office? And a sniper was a far cry from her teen paranoia of a world-wide virus breakout that would send the world into an apocalypse.

  But this meeting had been set up. It had been known Elizabeth would be here in this room at this time. Tessa had to act on her instincts and her favorite mantra: Better safe than sorry.

  A man with midnight black, slicked-back hair entered the room. His very presence seemed oily and made Tessa want to wipe her fingers on her dress pants.

  Charles, standing beside her, tensed. Tessa could tell, even under his suit jacket, that every muscle in his shoulders, back, and arms were rock hard.

  This must be Mr. Augustine.

  “Sit right here, Ms. St. Amant,” he said immediately, pointing to the seat in front of the window.

  But Tessa grasped Elizabeth’s wrist to stop her.

  The court reporter’s seat was in a spot not as exposed because of a weight-bearing wall that broke up the architecture of the large windows. Tessa had been about to order the woman to move, but she remembered Vivian and Elizabeth’s easy charm. She tilted her head and gave a wide smile to the woman just like Elizabeth would have done. She said, “Would you mind terribly if we switch your chair with Elizabeth’s? She’s a bit sensitive to light.” She even added a slight eyelash flutter.

  The court reporter looked up at her, smiled in return, and said, “Why, sure.”

  “No,” Mr. Augustine protested in a strangled voice.

  Everyone looked at him. His Adam’s apple was clearly visible over the top edge of his white collar and his tie looked a little tight.

  “Why?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We’re videotaping this,” he said.
“We’d have to move the backdrop.”

  “It’s not heavy. I can move it,” Charles said.

  “We need the light,” Augustine insisted.

  While he and Mr. Augustine wrangled, Tessa and the court reporter switched the seats and adjusted the backdrop, which really didn’t need to be moved more than a foot. She admitted she felt a little silly, but she did her best to stay back from the large window and not appear in it for more than a second or two. After the chairs and backdrop were arranged, Tessa brought Elizabeth forward from where she’d been standing near the door and settled her in her seat in the safer zone behind the weight-bearing wall, out of sight from either of the two large windows.

  Mr. Augustine belatedly recognized Tessa’s presence. “What are you doing here? You need to leave.”

  “I’m her bodyguard. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” Charles growled. His tall figure next to her made her feel sheltered.

  “This is a deposition —” Mr. Augustine started.

  Charles cut in, “There’s no rule that says she can’t be here. I already mentioned to you that we fear for my client’s safety. You assured me every precaution would be taken.”

  “We have, so she doesn’t need to be here.” Mr. Augustine’s voice was a bit higher pitched than it had been earlier.

  “Your job is to know the law” — although not necessarily to uphold it — “but my job is to think of every dangerous possibility,” Tessa said. “What if you’re an undercover assassin and you attack my client in the middle of the interview?”

  Mr. Augustine choked, then tried to laugh. “That’s absurd.”

  “Or what if there’s a sniper just outside that window? I’d rather be here if he starts shooting.”

  Mr. Augustine turned white and pasty, and Tessa could almost smell the fear suddenly wafting from his armpits. He glanced nervously at the windows — no, specifically the right window, the one where Elizabeth’s chair had been positioned.

  The court reporter also looked out the window where she now sat, then stared hard at Mr. Augustine. She picked up her seat and moved closer to Elizabeth.

  “So you see, I’m not going anywhere.” Tessa thrust out her chest and tried to look intractable.