Derrick's Choice (Titan Security Book 1)

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  Spending less time with Master and more time with Derrick had me more befuddled than ever with the feelings I was beginning to have for both men. I’d grown fond of Master, finding I needed him in ways I never thought I’d admit to—ones I still had yet to explore. While he was challenging, I felt safe and treasured in his arms. With Derrick, I felt challenged mentally at work, and emotionally I was pulled toward him in much the same fashion I felt for Master. Was it possible to care for two men at the same time? Would Master hate me if I wanted to have lunch with Derrick or spend more time with him? I’d really like the chance to talk with Master about our former boss to see if I could put some of my feeling of loss to rest. And with Derrick, would he find me repulsive with my need to be controlled outside of work? I was feeling so damned confused, like both of my worlds were imploding on one another.

  A few weeks passed and we seemed to be getting back into a rhythm at work, moving forward on the projects we needed to complete. I’d been surprised to see security block Mr. Voleur’s attempts at relocating to Tennison’s office. He’d pitched holy hell—enough for us to hear it all the way down the halls.

  From what I could gather of the conversation, the lawyer had been called and would be going over the stipulations of the company, how it was to be run, the finances, and any other matters of importance later that day in the conference room.

  Imagine my surprise when both Derrick and I had security personnel walk us from our respective offices to the conference room in question. We’d both looked at each other in shock when the doors opened, and we were told to go inside and take a seat. Why were we here? Did Tennison put us in the will for some reason? Could it be that he thought of us like a son and daughter?

  “What the hell are those two doing here? They aren’t even related to our stepfather.” Cassidy objected. And, to no surprise, Mr. Voleur wasn’t far behind, insisting on our removal.

  I watched as his face turned cranberry red, wondering if he was about to have a stroke from the amount his blood pressure seemed to be rising. I could only imagine steam pouring from his ears and his eyes bugging out like a cartoon character having a hissy fit, if he didn’t get control of himself. He pointed a finger at both Derrick and me. “I want that asshole and bitch removed from this room at once!” He then pointed toward Cassidy, Blaine, and Amy. “It’s bad enough the trash has to be here. Do we have to scrape the bottom of the barrel with the scum too?”

  Talk about taking a cheap shot. What was this guy’s problem?

  The lawyer for Mr. Tennison, Grant Peabody III, stood up with Tennison’s former bodyguards flanking him. “You’ll sit down, shut-up, and listen to the provision of this will just like everyone else, Mr. Voleur. If you cannot be hospitable, I’ll have you removed, and you’ll have to find out secondhand the changes that will be occurring around here.”

  The bodyguards took a step forward, intimidation and pleasure written across their faces at the thought of removing him. Voleur looked like an intimidating bastard, with a six-foot frame, slight form but somewhat lanky, a nose that almost guaranteed he looked down on most of society, and a scowl currently present across his face—as though he’d smelled something foul in the room. His mostly salt-and-pepper hair made him appear distinguished, but the attitude wiped it all away, showing a true bastard underneath.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take much to get him to heel and take his seat. “Fine, get on with this crapfest so I can move into my office and take my rightful position as head of this company.”

  I could feel my body shaking at what I’d witnessed. I was thankful when Derrick put his arm around my shoulder and guided me into a seat opposite Natalie and Jacob. They’d both offered nods and apologetic smiles, which we returned in kind.

  “Now that everyone is present and accounted for, we’ll begin the reading of Tennison’s Last Will and Testament.” Mr. Peabody held up the sealed envelope, opening the edges, removing and unfolding the documentation before us.

  “I’d been called into Tennison’s office almost a month ago with a request for an addendum to the will. A few days later, I went back to gather his signature, not realizing it would be the last occasion I would spend time with my good friend and confidant.” Peabody took in a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly, before adding, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  He read aloud the details of the will, citing Cassidy and Blaine were to continue with their jobs and offered opportunities of advancement and raises, pending their work ethics remain intact. Their apartments would continue to be provided at discounted costs to them. Only their desire to leave the company or being fired would change anything currently in place. Upon that time, details regarding the separation from Pterodyne would be provided and alternate provisions discussed.

  As for their mother, Amy, she would continue to receive alimony payments. The judge would block any attempt to collect anything further. Tennison had laid out strict orders for her and her kids to leave Natalie and Jacob alone. She was encouraged to find new love and remarry—not to put an end to her payments, but to allow her the happiness that seemed to fade with their marriage.

  Natalie would have all rights to the house and their mutual bank accounts put in her name. Their son, Jacob, would continue his internship at the company, pending his graduation from college. He would be given the opportunity to learn, from the ground up, all aspects of the company and how it was run, before being allowed to fall into the leading role of CEO, which would be some time yet.

  Jacob seemed to be a little panicked by the news of everything, but Derrick reached over the table, giving his hand a fist bump. “You’ll do fine, sport.” This seemed to make him smile and relax.

  Now Mr. Peabody was getting to the elephant in the room. He began reading, “Mr. Voleur has been quite instrumental in securing government contracts for Pterodyne for the past couple of years. While I’d considered the option of appointing him as acting CEO of the company, should anything happen to me, I began to think of…”

  Mr. Peabody had everyone in suspense. Voleur was at the edge of his seat, his hands turning white knuckled from the grip he’d had on the table’s edge. If we thought he looked intimidating before, now he looked at the lawyer as an angry bull would to a bullfighter waving a red flag in an arena. “Get on with it, man. Let everyone know I’m the fucking CEO of this pathetic excuse of a company.”

  A derisive look, aimed at Voleur, spread across Peabody’s face as his words echoed off the walls of the conference room, “…a more formidable individual, pair of them actually, capable of bringing this company into a new era. These individuals have forward thinking, the connections, and the gumption to achieve all the goals I’d so aggressively sought in life. I’m assured they’ll guide my son, Jacob, to greatness and offer fairness toward my stepchildren. I appoint both Derrick Caldwell and Jesse Bradford as co-CEOs until such time they deem Jacob capable of running the company himself. At that time Voleur should be approaching retirement, and they’ll take over his position, providing my son assistance in a supporting capacity. These are my final words, not to be contested, and will stand as such, until either one or both of the current CEO’s step down, take another position elsewhere, or leave this earth through death.”

  Blaine and Cassidy pitched a hissy fit, claiming things were unfair, that they should’ve gotten the chance to show what they could do. Mr. Peabody assured them they would have opportunities to advance and climb in rank within the company; however, Jacob, by birth, was entitled to inherit the company, and we were only ensuring his right, being trusted to run things until such time.

  I’d been speechless, completely dumbstruck by what I’d heard. Me and Derrick as CEO’s of the company? Could we get along well enough to pull this off? Would we have to share an office? Would the rest of the employees be in an uproar over the decision, or would they be thankful to have Voleur back in his place as the veep? And would Voleur even accept that?

  I looked over at Voleur who was seething. If he’d had the ab
ility to shoot daggers from his eyes or wish someone dead by just one look, I’d be a goner—so would Derrick. “I’ll contest the will! I was supposed to be put in as CEO. That two-timing, back-stabbing, son of a…” His fist pounded against the table, causing all of us to jump.

  The bodyguards lurched forward, ready to remove him from the room if need be. Peabody held up another paper. “I have a signed affidavit from Judge Collins. He discussed, in great detail, the new provisions of the will with Tennison in his chamber, before signing them in front of him as a witness. Tennison wanted to ensure the will stands and is iron clad.”

  Voleur rose from his seat, buttoning the front of his blazer. “We’ll just see about that. I want a copy of that will on my desk before you leave this office. I also want the number to that judge and will be making calls to a few friends on the bench to see just how legit Judge Collins is. No one is beyond being bought in this society, not even you, sir.” He looked over at both Derrick and I with hatred still filling his face, “You may think you’re all that, but you’ve got nothing. You are both worthless, pathetic wannabes and will never get the chance to run this company, not if I have anything to say about it.”

  With those parting words, Voleur held up his hands to show the guards they could stand down, and left the conference room on his own accord. I’d later heard he’d grabbed a few things from his office and said he’d return to take command, one way or the other.

  “I think he just had the rug pulled out from under him is all. He just needs to calm down and collect himself. He’ll return and probably find that he needs this job just as much as we do,” Derrick offered. I seriously felt threatened by the man, though. I couldn’t explain it, whether it was a sixth sense or what, but I felt on edge from that point forward. The feeling was so overwhelming, I planned on calling my parents to see if I could come home for the weekend, needing to get away from Tampa and needing their perspective on things.

  Life had changed and not for the better. In my father’s eyes, I’d committed the worst sin in the security world: allowing someone under protection to come to harm. I’d been expecting to be reamed out but not the amount of wrath my father delivered. I’d basically been handed my ass on a plate. “You’re a disgrace as a former soldier, a dishonor to Titan Security, and a humiliation as a son. If you have any decency left, you’ll apologize to Tennison’s family, beg for their forgiveness, try to clean up what you can at Pterodyne, and return to Mr. Prescott—if he’ll even have you in his employment. I don’t want you working for me ever again.”

  Dad had already tried to pull the team home, leaving me to myself. I guess it paid to be a forward thinker and seize his authority. I’d already had a talk with a few of the most trusted members of my team, knowing Dad would try micromanaging things again. I told them the mission was to continue until further notice, as we went from having a potential killer to an actual assassin on our hands. To me, a threat still existed despite Tennison’s life being taken. We still didn’t know if the threat was from the past or present. All we knew was someone was out there, and their job might not be complete.

  I’d offered anyone wanting to leave, the opportunity to do so. The majority of the team held firm to my directions, believing, as I did, a threat still existed. However, one team member did decide to leave—Jasper. I was taken aback he had decided to walk away; he’d been so anxious to help me resolve who Calleum Price was, the other identity he seemed to be going by, and why he was trying to hide himself from existence. Something was starting to smell fishy, making me wonder if a spy had infiltrated us. Could I have been so focused on Jesse and work that I hadn’t realized?

  I didn’t want to argue with my dad, so I put it to him simply, “I’m not your employee to boss around, sir. I was given direct orders from Tennison to carry out in the event of his demise, and I’m sticking with those instructions until such time I deem them complete. I have a murderer on the loose, and I will find who’s responsible for this crime and will bring them to justice. Until then, I have a company to co-run with my fellow employee.”

  I’d taken the old man by surprise. Never in my life had I stood up to him and declared what I would do.

  “But…” He sputtered over the phone.

  I didn’t allow my father to get another word in. “I’ve tried to make choices on my own in the past, plans that would make me happy, only to have you come in behind me and change them to what you wanted. I’m tired of following your orders, your life. I mean you no disrespect, sir, but it’s time you account for your own mistakes and let me learn from mine.”

  The silence on the end of the phone didn’t frighten me. My father was notorious for thinking things through before firing off a response—that’s how he got where he is in life. “If that’s how you feel, fine.”

  I hated that we’d come to a fork in the road, where neither of us would accept the direction the other was going, but I was prepared for that possibility. Life moves on whether we like it or not. He’d always blame me for his best friend’s death. Maybe he’d see in time that no one has full control over all circumstances and can’t plan for all things, even him.

  I’d been at home when my father called. I knew Jesse had gone home for the weekend to visit with her parents in Orlando. She hadn’t told me that much, but she had talked with Master, asking for his permission. I had Rick keeping an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t being followed, because I’d caught a glimpse of someone shadowing her a couple times here in Tampa, which concerned me. So far, no one seemed to connect the dots to Tennison’s true identity, or had they? I was trying to get some fuzzy images of the person refined to see if we could get some kind of visual we could process through facial recognition software. Until then, I had eyes and ears on Jesse, including spyware attached to her cell so I’d know every incoming and outgoing call and could pull up her location at any point in time.

  Rick had just sent a status report on Jesse, when the alarm on my computer went off. I popped over to the screen to see the motion sensors on Jesse’s apartment door had been triggered, along with the video feed activated in the living areas.

  I watched as the perpetrator, wearing gloves and a ski mask, rummaged through her place—searching for what, I had no idea. The man hadn’t turned on any lights, which was fine with me; the cameras I’d planted were equipped with night vision, picking up any details he was willing to give me.

  The man, cursing up a storm, had gone through her files, her laptop, and her bookcase. I watched as he dialed a cell phone number. I tried to have the camera zoom in and capture the digits, but his angle was too far off for me to see all of them. At least I was recording the events and could have someone go back through with a filter to see if we could get any identifying marks off this person or any further information to help us later.

  “I can’t find any kind of safe here on the premises. What are your directions?” The man listened intently, nodding and responding where appropriate. “Will do, sir.”

  The man pulled out some bugs to plant around the apartment. Too bad they wouldn’t be there for long. I’d remove them the moment he left her place and would hand them over to my team to see if they could figure out where the bugs had been purchased and by whom.

  Something wasn’t sitting right with me. I made a phone call to my brother, not wanting to risk one of our team members being a snitch, and asked him to dig into a couple of items on the down-low, without knowledge from Mr. Prescott, our father, or anyone. He assured me he had my back, as he knew I always had his.

  The call to Rick had been perfect timing, since Jonas Forgione, one of the newer recruits to both Prescott International and Titan Security, had finished his latest assignment. Jonas had been having a hell of a time adjusting from military to civilian life—we all did to some degree—but he was taking a little longer than most, needing someone to act like a commander to him to keep him grounded. I’d done that when I was working for Prescott; Rick was doing it now but having trouble trying to handle eve
rything Prescott and Dad were throwing at him lately.

  Rick asked me to do him a solid and take Jonas on with the assignment. Jonas did great on various duties, but put him into a suit and inside a regular business environment, and he would crack. Jesse’s parents had been working with him, through psychological counseling, to adjust and adapt to civilian life. He didn’t quite fit in with regular society, but he also didn’t mesh with the military any more—basically stuck in a transitional phase. He wasn’t alone. Many of us felt the same way initially coming out of service. That’s all we’d ever known, but Mr. Prescott, and even Mr. Tennison, had made a point to hire former service men. If it hadn’t been for them giving us chances, I don’t know where half of us would be now.

  “Send him on down. The sooner Jonas can get here the better. I’ve got plenty on my plate to keep him busy. If Dad riles up, tell him to kiss my ass. I’m following orders until this job is done.” I knew Rick would love the chance to tell our dad to kiss off. Dad had never fully appreciated him or even accepted him as part of our family…until I royally screwed up, in Dad’s eyes anyway.

  The more I thought of Jonas, the more I liked the idea. I actually could use the extra muscle and skill set he’d provide, since Jasper left. I needed an extra, someone to tail Jesse when I was stuck at work, and, more importantly, I needed to track down Calleum Price and have a heart-to-heart talk with him. He was hard to corner, like a frightened snake, always managing to slither away from us undetected. Jonas was the one person I could count on to be intimidating as hell and block Calleum. Just the sheer size of Jonas, built like a tank with a permanent scowl on his face, was enough to make most men leave tracks in their pants.