Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  Luckily, we were able to make it to Union Square and to the valet parking garage without anymore incidents.

  Lauren exhaled deeply as we stepped outside. “God—remind me next time to just have Raul do the driving. Not that I want him driving this car.”

  I doubted Raul would drive the car any worse than she just had, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I need a drink,” Lauren said. We went to one of her favorite places, the Boujou Bar, which was crowded, but because it was Lauren they immediately led us back to the VIP seating area and brought over a bottle of Domaine Leflaive Bâtard-Montrachet Grand Cru, which, I had the suspicion, they kept on hand specifically for Lauren.

  “So,” she said, after draining about half the glass in one sip, “tell me more about this babysitter of yours. It sounds interesting.”

  “There isn’t really much more to tell at the moment,” I said, watching as she arranged the bottle and her glass on the table before pulling her phone out of her handbag and snapping a shot. “Lunch with the bff,” she said as she tapped at the screen. She tossed the phone down. “I can’t get much more creative than that. I don’t think anyone on Instagram really reads the captions, anyway. Sorry, what were you saying?”

  I took a sip of the wine. I didn’t particularly like wine, or even alcohol in general, but it was kind of an unspoken rule that if you went out with Lauren, you at least had to indulge her a little bit. “I can give you more details about it once he actually starts. I’m not even sure when that’s going to be. Probably tomorrow because that’s when I’m planning on going for a ride.”

  Lauren made a face. “How about you come to spin class with me instead?”

  I had never done a spin class before and had no intention of ever doing so. That sort of thing just wasn’t for me. It was bad enough using the trainers; it seemed profoundly wrong to be riding a bike inside. Especially with some instructor shouting at you the whole time. But Lauren, I knew, felt similar, in that she couldn’t understand why I would want to be out in the woods somewhere, miles from civilization, when I could just join a gym and get the workout in that way.

  “My fitness level is nowhere near ready to do a spin class,” I told her. Which wasn’t entirely a lie. I’d been doing some rides, but I certainly wasn’t anywhere close to being as fit as I had been. I probably would never be at that level again, which I secretly believed but desperately didn’t want to.

  “I highly doubt that,” Lauren said. “So... what does this guy look like? Give me all the deets.”

  “Um... well, he’s got good hair. It’s funny, I actually saw him at Arete the other night when we were there for my dad’s birthday. He was at another table, and he kind of caught my eye because I could tell he was having a rough day or something but trying to act like everything was fine.”

  Lauren made a kissy face. “Why do I feel like this is the beginning of a Hallmark movie?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not.”

  “Listen, Stell, if I, of all people, can get married, then anything is possible. Who was your last boyfriend? I can’t even remember, it was so long ago. You need a man in your life.”

  “I’m getting a man in my life, thanks to my parents. The problem is, I don’t want him.”

  “You know what I mean. You need a man that you actually want. Who was your last boyfriend, anyway?”

  I had to think back a while. “Ryan,” I said finally.

  “Oh, my God. That was when we were still in high school.”

  “I know. It was a while ago. There’s been some hookups since then, but I didn’t have time for a relationship.”

  “You do now. Let’s find you a totally delicious man. I’ll ask Trevor if he knows anyone. We can do double dates.”

  “Hey, now,” I said. “Just because you’re about to settle down doesn’t mean I have to.”

  Lauren poured herself another brimming glass of wine. “Who says I’m settling down?” she asked with a grin.

  Chapter 5

  Cole

  The next morning I woke up to a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

  It’s Stella, it started out. And this is my phone number. I’m being a good daughter and getting in touch because I’m going for a bike ride at eleven o’clock. Which means I’ll see you here at nine thirty.

  And that was it—no other details about where we were going to ride or anything. I got up and went out to the kitchen to make coffee. My phone rang while I was doing that. It was my mom, so I picked it up as I cracked an egg into the frying pan.

  “Hello, Mom,” I said.

  “Good morning, sweetie. Listen, I was thinking maybe you could come over this weekend; you could see if Carrie was available,” Mom said. “Since she wasn’t feeling well last week.”

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t been able to come clean to everyone at Arete—I’d told them that Carrie was sick and that’s why she hadn’t gone with me. I’d been hoping that everyone would just forget about her, or at least take the hint when I never mentioned her again, but my mother was not that sort of person.

  “We could do a cookout,” Mom was saying. “We just got some excellent lamb chops from the farm share. Does Carrie like lamb? You should ask her—not everyone likes it.”

  “Actually, Mom,” I said, “things with Carrie didn’t really work out. We just... we’re just going to be friends.”

  “Oh, Cole. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you managing all right?”

  Her tone was heavy with concern, but also maybe slightly tinged with disappointment, too. As the youngest of the five O’Keefe children, I would always be the baby in my mother’s eyes. I knew this and it was a role I accepted. But since I’d entered my thirties, she’d been dropping subtle—and some not-so-subtle—hints that she was concerned I might not find someone and would end up alone, especially since I was now living alone.

  “I’m managing just fine,” I said. “In fact, I have a new job.”

  “You quit your job?”

  “No, I’m still working there, but it’s... like a new assignment, I guess. Do you know who Ed Brookshire is?”

  “I can’t say that name rings any bells.”

  “Well, he’s this billionaire tycoon guy.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t know him, then. You’re working for a billionaire tycoon guy?”

  “Parker Security has done business with him for a while now. He owns all sorts of different companies. But this is more of a personal thing. He has a daughter, and he wants a bodyguard for her.”

  “And they want you to do it?”

  Was that a note of surprise in her voice? I decided to ignore that. “Yes,” I said. “In fact, I start today. I have to head over there right after I eat something. So I can’t stay on the phone for long. But listen, I’ll get in touch about getting together, okay? It just might not be with Carrie. Well, it won’t be with Carrie.”

  “Well, that is too bad. But there are plenty of fish in the sea, sweetie; don’t get discouraged. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

  “Okay—thanks, Mom,” I said, trying to balance the phone between my ear and my shoulder so I could flip the egg. The phone almost slipped out. “Gotta go, Mom! Love you! Bye!”

  ***

  I made it to Stella’s at 9:29.

  “I want to drive up to Annadel,” she said, “and go for a ride. Ever been there?”

  I nodded. I’d ridden at Annadel State Park several times. It was up in Santa Rosa, and the majority of it was pretty technical singletrack. There were plenty of other, easier, options, and closer, too, but I had a feeling that Stella wanted to school me, maybe even get me to quit before the job had even really started.

  “Is it cool if we stop by my place so I can get my other bike?” The IndyFab was great, but it wasn’t anything you’d want to ride at Annadel.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you to ride that. Nice bike, though. I like the paint job.”

  Gareth had driven the jeep out of the basement garage and lef
t it parked halfway on the sidewalk. It had a hitch-mounted tray-style bike rack, the kind that lets you secure the bike to it without any parts actually touching the frame. The exact kind of rack I’d want if I ever had the money—or a vehicle to put it on.

  Stella was coming out of the house through the French doors that I’d gone through the first time I went there. She had her bike, and though she was trying to act like she wasn’t, she was having a bit of a hard time navigating it down the steps.

  “Here, let me help,” I said, rushing over.

  “I’ve got it,” she said curtly.

  “Okaaayy. At least let me hold the gate open for you, then.”

  That she let me do, probably only because she didn’t want to scratch the bike. And it was a beaut. All carbon, full suspension, probably 120 millimeters of travel. Dropper seat post, carbon cranks, twelve-speed drivetrain. Was I drooling? Probably. “Wow,” I said. “Nice bike.”

  “This is my trail bike,” she said, as if that somehow made the bike not quite as nice.

  I climbed into the front seat and made a few adjustments. I had been expecting Stella to get into the passenger-side seat, but she went around and got in the back.

  “You don’t want to sit in the front?”

  “I’m perfectly fine back here.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her sliding earbuds into her ears.

  “Okay. Great,” I said. So I drove us in this awesome jeep in silence to my place. Fortunately, there was a parking spot right out front.

  I retrieved my own bike and brought it outside, along with my helmet and water bag full of snacks. My bike was nowhere near as nice as hers, though I told myself I shouldn’t be bothered by this—my father wasn’t a billionaire, and I certainly wasn’t either. This bike had been saved for and purchased solely by myself, and though it wasn’t the most expensive bike in the world, it was a decent one, with excellent components, if I did say so myself.

  And then we were back on the road, leaving the city, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Once out of the city, the fog lifted and the sun shone down as I zipped along the 101. We rode in silence for probably half an hour when Stella cleared her throat.

  “So, let’s just go over some of the basics,” she said. I looked at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Sure. Like, your feet go on the pedals and your hands go on either side of the handlebars?”

  She gave me a stony stare. Okay, so it wasn’t my best joke, but I figured it would at least get a tiny smile.

  “No. The basics are that while we might be going on this ride together, this isn’t a social event. I’m not expecting a whole lot of conversation. In fact, I’m not expecting any conversation once we get onto the trail. And I want you to stay well behind me. I mean, I don’t think you’re going to have much choice in the matter anyway, but I feel as though I need to say that.”

  “Hey, now,” I said, “just because I don’t have a dainty little cross-country bike doesn’t mean I can’t keep up.”

  “That’s the point, though,” she said. “I don’t want you to keep up. We’re not riding buddies. This isn’t some shred session you’re having with your bros. Just let me do my thing and if you happen to see any masked man standing behind some tree pointing a gun at me, you can take care of him, okay?”

  “I could throw a rock at him. I’m a pretty good aim. I don’t have a gun, though. Are you sure you don’t want me to go in front? That way I’d be the first to encounter this masked gunman.”

  She snorted. “There’s no way you could ride fast enough for me. No, you need to stay in the back.”

  If she’d been another type of girl, I might’ve thought her insistence that I stay behind was so I could fully appreciate her ass in her bike shorts. But there was no doubt in my mind that Stella’s insistence I ride behind her truly was because she thought she was a better rider than me.

  Which maybe she was. I mean, she had been the pro racer, after all. Maybe I was about to get my ass handed to me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  When we got to the trailhead, I parked and took the bikes off the car while she put on her helmet, sunglasses, and gloves. She got on the bike and rode it around the parking lot a couple of times as I got my own helmet.

  “You’re only taking that one water bottle?” I asked as I secured my water bag onto my back. I also had two water bottles on my bike.

  “I never take more than one. We’re not going on some bikepacking trip,” she said, eyeing my water bag.

  “I know. But I like to be prepared.” Aside from the water bladder, the bag had a spare tube, a couple of CO2 cartridges, a patch kit, tire levers, a multi-tool, and a mini first-aid kit. And snacks, of course, including some of Mom’s homemade trail mix.

  “Anyway, this conversation doesn’t need to continue. Are you ready?”

  I slid my sunglasses on. I didn’t wear gloves because I liked to feel the handlebar grips on my bare palms. “I’m ready.”

  My bike had forty more millimeters of travel than hers did, and was probably considerably heavier, which definitely put me at a disadvantage for the uphills. And the ride from Annadel started with an immediate, brutal uphill through some serious rock gardens. I locked the fork and the shock out, kept my ass in the saddle to help with traction, and started to pedal. I did, though, have to keep a respectful distance. And, okay, I admit it—I misjudged the distance and ended up clipping a rock with my front tire. I didn’t fall but I did bail, and once you stop like that in the middle of a rock garden on such a steep grade, the chances of getting back on the bike and starting again were virtually impossible, so I walked the bike up the rest of the way. Stella had made it, and hadn’t even bothered to wait at the top of the hill, so I hopped back onto the saddle and took off after her. She came into view maybe twenty seconds later, and I laid off a little, though it was clear she was really going for it. Like, really going for it, as if we were in a race or something. Already I was breathing heavily and my thigh muscles were starting to burn a little. This always happened at the beginning of a ride when I started fast like this, though; I’d feel this sense of burning out right then and there, like I wasn’t going to make it, but really all I had to do was push through it and I’d get this surge of energy that would last me the rest of the ride. It’s just that getting there was sometimes a challenge.

  And Stella was definitely going hard. I shifted up into a harder gear and chased after her. Every uphill she’d get a little further ahead of me, though I was able to make up for it every time we came to a downhill. She didn’t even bother to look back once, and I felt sorry for any of the other guys who’d had to go out on rides with her, especially those who weren’t used to riding bikes. Because if you weren’t into riding bikes—and especially mountain bikes—trying to keep up with this would be like a special form of torture.

  Finally, she slowed down, and then came to a stop. She had her water bottle and was guzzling it.

  “Whew!” I said. “Damn, you’re going for it.”

  She glanced over at me but didn’t say anything.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. She looked pale and was breathing heavily.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  “I think we should stop.”

  “We can keep going.”

  I could tell, though, that she wasn’t fine, that she had probably pushed it way too hard but had too much pride to acknowledge it now. There was no way she was going to stop, unless she passed out, and I didn’t want something like that to happen my first day on the job.

  “Well, I need to stop,” I said, even though I knew I could’ve kept going for quite some distance. We pulled off to the side where there was a bit of a clearing. Her hands were shaking slightly, and when we sat down on a fallen log, it seemed more like her legs just gave out than her actually sitting down. She had her water bottle, which she tilted back, then tipped back further. She didn’t have any water left, or, if she did, she had very little. I stoo
d up and got one of the bottles off my bike, holding it out to her.

  “I haven’t had a drink out of it yet,” I said. She hesitated but finally took it from me. I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a Baggie of trail mix. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t like pecans.”

  I took a handful of trail mix for myself and then returned it to the bag and pulled out a granola bar. “You should have some of this.”

  “I’m really fine.”

  I ripped open the packaging and held it out to her. I wasn’t going to give her a lecture, but it was clear she’d done way too much, way too fast, and her body just wasn’t ready for that yet. She took a sip of water and then took the granola bar from my outstretched palm.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know,” I said as she broke a piece off the granola bar and then tried to hand the rest of it back to me. “That’s for you. I’ve got plenty more.”

  “I’m not trying to prove anything,” she said, as if the very idea offended her to the core. “We’re stopping because you needed to.”

  Now, if I were another type of guy, I might have argued the point with her. I might’ve laughed in her face and said that I could easily make it back to the trailhead and leave her in the dust. But her assertion that we had stopped because of me and not her was just showing me how sensitive she was about this whole thing, how badly she needed to believe that she could still do this, that she could still be the best at something she used to be the best at. And who was I, anyway? I was just some guy she didn’t even know, some working joe who rode his bike around when he had the spare time, not some elite athlete who had dedicated their life to racing bikes the way she had. It would be a blow to her ego to admit that she was the one who couldn’t keep up, and I was smart enough to know that I should just go along with it.

  “You’re right,” I said. “And I do appreciate it. When you’re ready to get going again, just say the word.”