False Security

by Evan Grace

  false security

  Rogue Security and Investigation Series

  Book Two

  By Evan Grace

  FALSE SECURITY

  Copyright © 2018 by Evan Grace.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: June 2018

  Crave Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  http://www.cravepublishing.net/

  Formatting: Crave Publishing, LLC

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-380-1

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-380-6

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To the survivors out there.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note:

  The story is about a woman who survived domestic abuse. At times she thinks about things that have happened to her, and the abuse is shown—albeit brief it’s still there. They may be triggers for some.

  Chapter One

  Shayla

  When they call my name at the counter, I grab my coffee and make my way to one of the chairs in the corner. I take a sip and sigh happily as the hot liquid slides down my throat.

  My coffeemaker broke this morning, but that wasn’t the worst thing that happened. Our orange tabby, Lucifer—yeah, I know—threw up in my doorway, which I didn’t know until I stepped in it. While I hobbled into the bathroom, Grant—or as I like to call him, Grunt—came running past me, hit the throw up, and went sliding across my hardwood floor.

  He immediately started crying, quickly sliding into full meltdown mode. I grabbed him instead of cleaning my foot so I could stick him in the shower and clean him up. Once he was dried off, I wrapped him in a towel and sent him to his room to wait for me. I quickly rinsed my foot before cleaning up the floor in my room. If I didn’t love that psychotic cat so much, I might’ve strangled him.

  Once that was done, I headed into my son’s room and leaned against the doorframe, watching him. He was sitting on his bed looking at one of his picture books. I walked over to join him on the bed, glanced at the book he was looking at, and smiled. The Dog Man series is his favorite. We love going to the library, and he’ll go through each page. I read with him and work with him on his pronunciation. But sadness washed over me when I thought about everything that’d happened over the past two years.

  My ex, Ryan, Grant’s father, used to hit me…badly, and I stayed because I was scared to leave, and stupid. I’d been convinced that was the right thing to do; I had my child to think about, and he loved his daddy. Grant loved him all the way up until he walked in on his dad pinning me to the bed, hitting and biting me until I was covered in blood and bruises. Ryan had known our son was in the room, but he didn’t stop because he knew it hurt me for our boy to see that. The next day, I went into the police station, pressed charges against him, and then filed for divorce. It was the last straw.

  Grant was only three when it happened, and it was like someone had flipped a switch inside him. He became scared of men, never talking in front of them and taking a long time to relax in their presence.

  We moved to Chicago last year, hoping that a change of scenery would do us both good, and it has, for the most part. My neighbor Luna watches him during the day while I work—she’s a stay-at-home mom with three- and four-year-old girls. My sweet little Grunt does whatever they want, and they seem to love bossing him around.

  He ran right up there when it was time to go. Grant always hugs Luna and then both girls, but he only waves and says, “Hi,” to Luna’s husband, Rocco. I hate that he’s so skittish around men, even the good ones.

  “Shayla?” I’m pulled from my thoughts by a woman’s voice and look up to find my new friend Carrie coming toward me with her cute pregnant belly.

  I smile. “Hi girlie, you look fantastic.”

  The beautiful blonde rubs her belly and smiles back. “Thanks.” She sits down in the other chair. We met a few weeks ago, when there were no chairs free for her and I was on the love seat. I’d invited her to sit with me, and we ended up talking for a little while.

  My son is my life, but it’s nice to have adult conversation. I work for a temp agency, going where I’m needed but with the flexibility I sometimes require with a small child at home. Luckily in the divorce settlement I got alimony and child support, which leaves me comfortable enough right now that I can work part time if that’s what Grant needs from me.

  “Are you getting ready for the baby to come?” She’s due any time now.

  Carrie takes a sip of her tea. “We are. The nursery is ready, I’m doing cloth diapers, and I’ve got the service set up. My bag’s packed, and I’ve got the baby’s coming home outfit picked up.”

  “That’s exciting.” I haven’t shared that I have a son, because then she’d find out about Ryan and the mess that our relationship was. I’d rather keep that stuff private—it’s easier that way.

  “So I have a question, and a possible request.” She looks hopeful. “Okay, first…I know you said you work for a temp agency, but I was wondering what type of work you do?”

  “I do secretarial work, and when I lived in Madison, I was the manager of a law office.” That’s why I was able to nail Ryan to the wall when I filed for divorce. I could’ve stayed working there, but after my co-workers learned the truth about my home life, I just couldn’t do it. I had to leave.

  “That’s perfect! Okay, so my husband and I work for a security and investigation company called Rogue. Well, I go on maternity leave soon, and our office manager is searching for my replacement. She’s expecting as well, so we want someone who could step in and fill either role. This is just perfect that we met each other—it was like fate. You should come work for us.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m cut out for that right now,” I tell her. “I just have some stuff that I’m dealing with.”

  “How about this: I’ll email you, or Delilah will. We’ll give you a rundown of the job, the hours, and the pay. If you decide you want it, we can talk more.”

  I give her my email and drink the rest of my coffee down. I’m ready to say goodbye to her, but she stays me with a hand on my arm. “I have one more thing. I know you’re single, and I was wondering if you’d be opposed to being set up on a blind date.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really in a good place to date.” What I really need is to have sex. Masturbating is all I’ve done since my divorce. It’s less complicated than sharing my history with someone.

  “Oh, please. I’ve got the perfect guy for you. His name’s Erik, and he’s so much fun. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem like you could use some fun.”

  When is the last time I had fun? And I kn
ow Luna and Rocco would watch Grant, so…“If I do this, I will pick a place, and he can meet me. Deal?” That way if it’s disastrous, I can make my escape. Shit, maybe I could get some decent sex out of it, and then I’d be good for another couple of years.

  Carrie’s smile widens like the Cheshire Cat’s—she can tell my resolve is weakening. Ugh. “Sure, whatever makes you most comfortable,” she chirps. “I’m sure he’ll be fine with that. Plus, he’s not available this weekend anyway, so we can shoot for next week, if you want? You’ll have plenty time to think of a good spot.”

  Against my better judgment, I nod my head. “Ugh…Okay, set it up.”

  Right in the middle of the coffee shop, she starts squealing and clapping her hands.

  I have a feeling saying “yes” was a mistake.

  ***

  I take my time sheet over to the office manager and have her sign it for me. “Thanks for your help today, Shayla,” she says.

  “You’re welcome. Just call the office if you need me again.” I step out onto the sidewalk and start walking toward the bus stop. The doctor’s office I was just at is one of the steady places I work—I come once a week to do some filing for them. I’d love to work there full time since they’ve got benefits and that would be better than Medicaid, which we have now. It’s hard to find doctors who take new patients with the card.

  Once I get home, I stop up at Luna and Rocco’s apartment to get Grant. I knock, and the beautiful blonde opens the door, smiling at me. “Hi Shayla, how was work?”

  “It was good, thanks. How was he today?”

  Her smile only gets wider. “He was wonderful as always. We walked to the park and the library today. Grant really loved story hour, and Starr sat glued to his side while they listened. After we came back here, all three of them were exhausted, so they laid down on the floor in the living room and actually took a nap today.”

  “Great, thanks. Ummm…there was something I wanted to discuss with you. I’ve been offered a full-time job with amazing pay and benefits. It’s to cover a woman’s maternity leave, but they may keep me on after she gets back if it goes well, and I know it’s a lot to ask—” Great, I’m babbling. I wasn’t even going to consider it until I got the email from Delilah, the office manager.

  Luna holds up her hand. “It’s not a lot, and I’d love to watch him.”

  I heave a sigh of relief, because once most places hear he doesn’t talk a lot, especially around men, they refuse to take him, assuming he’s special needs. “Thank you so much.”

  She wraps her arms around me. “Don’t thank me. We love you guys, and Shay, he’s a good boy.” Luna lets go of me and steps back. “When do you start?”

  “It won’t be for a couple of weeks, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know for sure.” Luna leads me into the living room where the kids are up now, watching Moana. My boy will watch anything the girls want, but that’s just how he is. “Hey, my little Grunt!” He turns and his eyes light up.

  “Mommy!”

  On fast legs, he jumps up and races toward me. I wrap my arms around him, inhaling his sweet little boy scent. “Were you good today?”

  He pulls back, smiling and nodding. His shaggy brown hair falls into his eyes. I brush it back. I should cut it—it’s getting long, but I love it on him.

  “Should we go home? Mom could use some snuggles. Wave bye to Luna, honey.” My boy does one better and runs to her, hugging her quickly before running back to me. I turn back to Luna. “Oh, I was going to ask if you might be able to watch him all night next Saturday,” I say. “I kind of told a friend she could set me up on a date.”

  Luna squeals and begins hopping up and down. “Yes, a hundred times yes! Oh my goodness, this is fantastic. Who is it?”

  “I’m not sure. His name is Erik—that’s all I know. I’m scared as hell, but I’ll feel better about everything knowing Grant is safe here with you. I don’t plan on staying out all night, but I didn’t want to wake him up to take him home.” He’s spent the night here before when I’ve been too sick to take care of him. Luckily it hasn’t happened a lot. I’ve returned the favor, watching their kids too.

  “No worries, you just go out and have fun.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk later. Bye, girls!” I call out to Starr and Lennon. Yes, Luna and Rocco are Beatles fans and named their daughters after members of the band. They’re a totally bohemian and hippyish couple, and the best people I’ve ever met. I smile at the girls’ distracted little goodbyes.

  Lucifer greets us at the door when we come in. Grunt picks him up and carries him back to his bedroom, returning a few minutes later with one of his books tucked under his arm and Lucifer’s front legs draped over it. His fat orange body is hanging there, but he’s unperturbed because that’s how much he loves Grant.

  They lie side by side on the floor while Grant reads out loud to him. I head into my room, changing into shorts and a t-shirt. Then I head out to the kitchen to start dinner.

  While we eat, I talk to him about my day, and he tells me about the park. Grant looks up at me and something about his eyes triggers a memory—my eyes burn as I remember that night. When I had seen my sweet little Grunt standing there in our bedroom, a part of me had died. His eyes had been wide with fear as Ryan hit me and bit me over and over, not stopping until he tired himself out.

  Chills rack my body as I remember watching Ryan walk right by our son and ruffle his hair like he did all the time. I’d summoned up enough strength to slide off the bed, wrap myself in the sheet, and crawl over to Grant. Bile burns my throat as I remember the way his body trembled as I held him to me. His tears slid silently down his face and I vowed right then and there that Ryan was never going to touch us again.

  I get up from the table quickly. “Baby, Mommy’s going to go to the bathroom quick.” He doesn’t look up from his plate.

  After hurrying down the hall, knowing I only have seconds before scalding tears begin to spill down my face, I close the bathroom door and collapse onto the closed toilet seat. I bury my face in my towel to muffle the sound of my crying. Guilt is a heavy burden I bear, but how can I not? The first time Ryan hit me I should’ve ran—well, I ran the first time, but went back. I was weak and blinded by love.

  I’ll never let a man have any sort of power over me again. I’m not sure why I agreed to go on this blind date, but if he’s good-looking and down, maybe I could just dust the cobwebs off my vagina and have sex. Because I do miss sex, and masturbation honestly gets super boring.

  Once the tears dry up, I splash cold water on my face and then dry it off. I look in the mirror and luckily don’t see any evidence of my breakdown. I take a deep breath and vow not to let the guilt drown me today.

  Chapter Two

  Erik

  The sounds of my breathing and my tennis shoes slapping the treadmill are all I hear as I finish up my morning jog. It’s raining—otherwise, I’d be running in the park. There’s usually an early morning yoga class, and the women are hot…and flexible. If the mood hit, I’d pick one up and go home with them for a little hardcore fucking. This weekend I won’t be able to go out looking for a lady friend, though, because my fourteen-year-old sister is coming to stay with her favorite big brother.

  Hell, at thirty, I’m technically old enough to be her father. My dad died when I was just a small boy—a carjacking gone wrong. The perp, a kid named Cesar, had been high as a kite and desperate and scared when he shot my dad. He’d only been fifteen when he went away, but my mom, being the saint she is, forgave him, counseled him, and got him on the right path. When he was released twenty years ago, my mom helped him start over.

  Now he’s married with a couple of kids and serves as the assistant pastor at my step-dad, Tad’s, church. Tad and my mom met when she was helping Cesar turn things around, and he got him his position. Tad and my mom married a year after they met and hadn’t planned on having kids, but then Mom got pregnant with Gretchen.

  Although lots of years separate us, we’re ex
tremely close. Gretchen may be a kid, but she’s so fucking smart and funny, and I love spending time with her. She’s not one of those irritating little shits…thank God.

  I focus back on running, letting that runner’s high hit me and flow through my body. It’s rainy, hot, and humid as fuck today, but if the military taught me anything, it was how to focus and work through anything that may be a hurdle. It’s been five years since I served in the Marine Corps, but all that shit stays ingrained in your brain. No matter what time I go to bed, I’m always up and running by five.

  By the time I stop the treadmill and get off, I feel fucking soaked to the bone with sweat. I hurry home from the gym in the shitty weather, let myself in, and toss my keys, phone, and earbuds on my kitchen counter. In the living room, I jump up and on my pull-up bar, doing a set until my arms feel like jelly.

  I finish with some crunches, and then some stretches before I down a protein shake and some eggs. After showering, I get dressed to go into work. I’ve been the head of surveillance at Rogue Security and Investigation for the past year, but I’ve worked there longer than that. The owner, Jack Mackenzie, and I met through Egan, who’s the IT specialist. Me and Jack hit it off and he hired me immediately. Next week a guy who served with him in the Army is starting. He’ll be my counterpart.

  If Jack trusts him, then so do I—this guy is supposed to be a good asset to our team, and if Jack says he’ll fit, then he will. Some of the men helped the guy move into his place, but I’d been working on a case at the time. I head out to my Explorer and make the trek across town to the office.

  Egan’s very pregnant wife, Carrie, greets me from the front desk. “Looking beautiful as always, Carrie.”