Briggs nodded. “Yup. Depending on how long a job lasts, we get to know the client on a personal level.” He looked at Davonte. “I’m referring to clients before Randi. They trust us and sometimes reveal more than we need to know. Treat their privacy as if it were your own.”
“Right. That goes without saying,” I replied. “Plus, it shouldn’t be hard, since I don’t have any friends or relatives living in Cleveland that I hang with on my off days.”
“You have us until you make more friends,” Davonte said. “Our doors are always open if you need to let off some steam or just shoot the shit.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that and the chance to do this job and prove my worth as an employee of GDB. I do get homesick sometimes, but I’m dealing with it.”
Going home was not an option. The memories of that night had ruined Chicago for me, forever tainting me a bad person and causing me to lose the woman I wanted to marry.
My parents had suffered too. They’d lost a lot after that night. Some friends stood by them because they knew what type of people they were. My parents had cut ties with some because those friends showed their true colors. They didn’t have any room in their lives for ignorant people.
I didn’t know how race-divided situations worked in a place the size of Cleveland, but in a city the size of Chicago, even with all its diversity, crossing those lines could cause all hell to break loose.
I scrubbed a hand down my tired face. “I have a question. What did you mean she is a public figure? Who is she?”
Davonte frowned. “You don’t know who Abbie Parker is?”
I shrugged. “Um… Dr. Parker’s daughter?”
Briggs scoffed. “Dude, don’t you own a television? She is a morning reporter at Channel 7. Her father feels this might be about him, but with her job, it could be about her. Journalists and television personalities get threats all the time.”
“Fuck, I had no idea,” I said. “Remember, I’m going to bed when the morning news is on; I’ve never seen her before.”
“Google her,” Briggs suggested. “Don’t make a big deal of her job. Treat her like a normal person and not a local celebrity.”
“No pressure there,” I said, and rubbed my eyes. I needed a good four hours of sleep, but that wouldn’t come anytime soon.
“We’re done,” Davonte said. “You can pick up a company car if you don’t want to use your vehicle. Make sure to keep track of your expenses for accounting purposes. Myrtle’s girdle bunches if you’re late turning in your reports. If you decide to treat Ms. Parker, put it on the expense account as office—the client doesn’t like being duped.”
“My expenses should stay low. I don’t require a lot,” I said, getting out of the chair.
“Any other questions?” Briggs asked. He handed me a large black suitcase. “These clothes should last a few days. I’ll come to relive you one day next week so you can go home and pack if her case lingers past a week.”
I took the suitcase. “I think I know what I need to do. Stay close and don’t let anyone get near Ms. Parker who she isn’t familiar with.”
I shook hands with both men and left the office to retrieve Ms. Parker and the company car. She might not feel comfortable in my old pickup truck.
*****
I parked the Lincoln sedan in the driveway, hopped out, and opened the door for Ms. Parker to exit the vehicle. The ride from the office to Beachwood had been quiet. My driving in the city was sketchy, since I wasn’t familiar with shortcuts yet and took the roads the GPS suggested.
I was sure my passenger knew better routes, but she remained quiet while messing with her cell phone, a far cry from the talkative person she was last night. Maybe the realization of what was happening to her had finally set in.
I grabbed my bag from the trunk and joined her on the porch. She went to stick the key in the lock, and I stopped her. “Let me do it. Stay behind me,” I said, stepping in front of her.
“Are you serious?”
Her annoyed look unnerved me a bit. However, I didn’t back down. “I’m very serious. From now on, I’ll walk in any establishment first, and I’ll always enter the house first. It’s for your safety.”
She scoffed. “In broad daylight? Who breaks into a house with the sun out and a guard posted at the gate?”
“The same type of person who tried to break in last night. Criminals aren’t exactly smart,” I said, and pushed the door open. The alarm panel was still engaged, and I turned it off before the thirty seconds ticked down to zero.
The foyer was flooded with sunlight from the tall windows. I walked around peeking in rooms and closets downstairs, but nothing looked disturbed. The kitchen was the same as it was left this morning. Abbie’s coffee mug was on the center island, the coffee pot still half-full.
“Stay here until I look around upstairs,” I said.
“Fine. I’ll just stand here and wait for you to see there is no one here but us.”
Ignoring her, I went up the stairs to check each room. She seemed irritated, and if it was directed at me, I didn’t know why. Dealing with the public was the hardest part of being a police officer. No matter how a subject was approached, they’d either be helpful or bite my damn head off.
All was clear, and I headed downstairs. Ms. Parker wasn’t in the foyer where I had left her. Her voice came from the family room, and I went toward it. She was standing by the window on the phone.
Her facial expression was softer now. Whomever she was talking with had lifted her spirits. I stood in the hallway and away from her so she wouldn’t suspect I was eavesdropping. I had to make sure she was not talking about her current situation, and she wasn’t. Being a journalist, I guessed she knew the importance of keeping her mouth shut.
When she saw me, she turned her back to me, ensuring I would not overhear her. I sat in a chair across the room and swiped open my phone. I didn’t know why. No one but my mother and siblings sent me messages. Often I’d wanted to call Joanie just to hear her voice, to try to explain my actions once again. She didn’t want any part of me. Her father had been quick to threaten me with a restraining order if I didn’t leave his daughter alone.
I swiped open the FriendConnect application and went to Joanie’s page. I missed her smile, the way her bright blue eyes twinkled in the sun. The taste of her lips. She was my world, and I was hers.
Skimming through her photos, I saw she’d removed every trace of me. I noticed the pictures of her with a blonde, slender man. They were smiling and hugging together on a fucking yacht, with a cute little white dog—their “new baby,” Snowball. I scrolled to her last post. It took me by surprise when I read that she was engaged.
We hadn’t been apart that long, and already she was engaged to another man?
Damn.
I went to his page and read his bio—he had attended Feinberg School of Medicine at Northwestern University. The quick engagement made sense. Her father had found the perfect mate for his daughter. He looked like a damn dork wearing a yellow polo shirt, white shorts, and boat shoes. His close-cropped blonde hair and black horn-rimmed glasses didn’t do him any favors either. That didn’t matter to Joanie; the man was a doctor and probably shared her views.
She was sweet and kind, but her family had money. Joanie didn’t see people the way I saw them. It made perfect sense why there were together. This guy could provide for her, give her what I couldn’t on a cop’s salary, and agree with her views of the world. Sometimes I felt I was a charity case for her. She’d tried to mold me to fit in her world. That didn’t go over well with my family. They hadn’t raised me to look down on anyone, no matter their financial status.
I closed the application and put my phone away. There was a reason Joanie hadn’t unfriended me. It was the final nail in my coffin, letting me know she had moved on and for me not to contact her ever.
Shit stung like a million bees digging in my skin, but I’d get over it. Moving away from Chicago was the best decision I’d made. Now to put mys
elf out there and get to know people. Cleveland was my start at rebuilding my life, and letting go of Joanie.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I looked up and saw the concern on Ms. Parker’s face. She had sat across from me on one of the elegant pieces of furniture that filled the room.
Decked out in rich earth tones of beige, with pops of red, the room was a showpiece. A large fireplace took up an entire wall, and elegant white drapes hung from tall windows. Beige sofas and matching chairs looked too expensive to sit on.
Mahogany tables held glass lamps and delicate knick-knacks, and tall brass planters with real plants were placed around the vast room. And to top it off, there was a professionally painted portrait of Dr. and Mrs. Parker that hung on a wall. No one would miss it when they entered the room.
Abbie Parker was part of another wealthy family to point fingers at me. This time, the finger-pointing would be different.
“Yes, I’m okay,” I answered.
“Are you sure? You looked as if you swallowed a bunch of bad lemons. I’m a good listener if you want to talk.”
I shook my head. “Ms. Parker, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Now is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you need to go?”
She crinkled her nose. “Please call me Abbie. I’m twenty-seven years old, not my mother.”
“No problem.” I waited for her to make the next move. I usually didn’t carry on long conversations with the residents. Actually, they didn’t talk to me unless they needed something. I’d learned early on that my place was to watch over them while they relaxed in their ivory towers.
“So where are you from, Beck? You don’t seem like a Clevelander.”
“I’m from Chicago. Born and raised there. I moved here eight months ago.”
“What brought you here? Chicago has to be more exciting than Cleveland.”
Keep it simple. Give short answers, and she’ll get the message. “I accepted the job with GDB, so I had to move.”
“I moved to New York with my mother to attend college. It feels weird to be living here again,” she said.
“Why did you move back to Cleveland after college?”
“After I graduated, I worked behind the scenes writing scripts for a food show. Did you know the finished product at the end of some shows is prepared by another chef?”
I shook my head. “That explains those delicious cinnamon rolls. You got to watch the pros at work. You didn’t like doing that and returned to Ohio?”
“My goal was to be an anchor or a street reporter. I struck out in New York. After I got tired of writing scripts, I took a job as an online journalist while I applied to other cities for an anchor position. So when Channel 7 contacted me about a temporary position to do reporting at events, I packed my bags and came home. They offered me a contract when the original reporter decided not to return after maternity leave. So my face is what people see first thing in the morning. Shocker, right?”
“Not a bad face to wake up to.” My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since early yesterday.
Abbie smiled. “A little hungry? I’ll get lunch started,” she said, and stood up.
I stood too. “You don’t have to cook for me, Abbie.”
“I have to eat too. Easy to cook for two rather than one. Do you have any food allergies?”
“I don’t have any allergies, but please don’t feel obligated to make sure I eat.”
Abbie crossed her arms over her chest. How did she stay so slender if she ate all over the city? My grandmother said to: never trust a skinny woman—she’s throwing up her meals. My grandmother was Russian, different, but sweet.
“So why are you turning down food?” She threw her arms up. “Oh, I get it. Your wife or girlfriend doesn’t like other women cooking for you. Well, let her know she doesn’t have to worry about me wooing you away—I have a boyfriend.”
Her expression was one of a woman unsure about a relationship. And why wouldn’t she know if there was a relationship or not?
“It’s not that. I’m not attached,” I said. “I don’t want to make any extra work on you.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll fix lunch.”
Abbie went toward the kitchen to cook, and that meant she had the final word. I’d have to ask Briggs or Davonte if this was acceptable. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by not eating her food.
Whipping out my phone, I texted Briggs. I was new at this and had to make sure I did everything by the book.
Briggs’ reply was swift. You’re allowed to eat the meals she offers. Don’t ask her to cook, though.
I texted back: Great. She knows her way around a kitchen, and I didn’t want to offend her.
Briggs: Enjoy your meal.
I was sure I would enjoy the food, but a feeling deep inside me suggested I should be replaced before I got in too deep with this case. Abbie Parker was a free spirit that was happy-go-lucky and enjoyed life. Compared to me, I would be a Debbie Downer moping around her. Especially after reading Joanie’s FriendsConnect page.
The best to hope for was not logical thinking on my part but would at least keep my mind off Joanie’s upcoming marriage: the stalker needed to make a move.
Chapter Four
Abbie
As I prepared lunch, I got pissed at the man hired to protect me. Why was he making a big deal out of nothing? It was food I was offering, nothing else. Underneath his handsome exterior simmered a jerk.
After I made this meal, he was on his own. I took a tomato from the fridge, washed and dried it before slicing. Try to be kind to people, and all I get is an attitude. Well, fine. I’ll play it his way.
After slicing the tomatoes with a heavy hand, I cut the cheddar and mozzarella cheese thick and even. I checked the cast iron skillet, and the butter melted instantly when it hit the hot pan. Next, the buttered side of the bread went down, followed by cheese, tomatoes, and another slice of bread.
The strawberry smoothies sat in the blender, waiting to be poured into chilled glasses. Once I had everything together, I plated the grilled cheese sandwiches, placed two chocolate chip cookies that I’d made earlier in the week on the plate, and poured the smoothie mixture in tall glasses, topped with strawberry slices.
I walked to the door and yelled, “Lunch is ready.”
Beck walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Thank you for lunch. I don’t want to be a bother to you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I didn’t look up from my plate as I took it from the counter and walked through the glass door to the deck.
It was a beautiful day, and I didn’t want to be cooped inside. I sat at the table, which was shaded from the sun but had a view of the in-ground pool. Maybe later I’d take a dip. Without Dad’s second wife around to make comments about me, I could swim in peace.
I heard the chair rub against the wood of the deck when Beck sat down. I hadn’t expected him to follow me outside.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care.” I took a bite of my sandwich, enjoying the flavor of the melted cheeses and tomato blending together.
“This is good. Grilled cheese is my favorite. Although I’ve never had these two kinds of cheese mixed together.”
“I like to play with flavors and textures. Cheddar and mozzarella pair well,” I said.
“The smoothie is good, too,” he said.
The forced vibe of our conversation made my skin tingle, and not in a good way. He was trying too hard, and I didn’t like it. It’d be better if we ate separately, or at least in quiet if he had to be where I was. My perception of him had already been set, and nothing he could say or do would change that now.
Nodding to agree was all he got. Growing up an only child, had me a little spoiled. If I was friendly to a person, I expected the same in return. Beck had come off as pleasant the other night. Whatever his bosses had said to him had flipped him to cold and stand-offish.
A deep sigh escaped my lips. Beck was h
ired to do a job and not be my friend, but to totally switch personalities the way he had was uncalled for.
The protocol on how to treat a bodyguard was unknown to me. Movies and books characterized them as cold, brooding, not talkative, but a badass throwing their life on the line for the sake of saving a client. My life wasn’t in danger; my father was acting overprotective for nothing.
Beck Pavlov hadn’t checked off all the boxes for that type of bodyguard, especially after I saw the two men at the office. They fit the profile perfectly. Beck did not have the brooding appearance, and he didn’t come off as a badass.
He was too damn clean-cut. If anything, he should’ve been a model or managed a little league football or baseball team. I’d go as far as to say he’d serve well as a camp counselor for wayward kids.
“I owe you an apology, Abbie.”
I shifted my gaze from the pool; his face was sincere and handsomely calm. “About what?”
“How I acted when you offered to make lunch for me. I wasn’t sure it was allowed.”
That explained a lot. “Oh. I guess I should’ve asked what you are allowed to do. It didn’t occur to me there might be conditions on how we interact.”
He scratched the dark hair covering his jaw. So thick and lush, just like the hair on his head. I shifted my eyes to his full lips. When he spoke, he had my undivided attention.
“According to my boss, accepting food is okay. As good as your food is, I will not take advantage of your skills.”
I laughed. “Thank you, but I won’t be in the kitchen every night. My day starts early, and by mid-afternoon, I’m dead on my feet.”
“Hopefully, you’ll be rid of me in a few days if nothing else happens. That should make you happy.”
I broke my cookie in half. “You’re certainly uncomfortable around me—so you’ll be doing a happy dance if nothing else happens.”
“You got it all wrong; I’m excited to have this job.”
I raised my right hand. “I, Abbie Maxine Parker, will be out of your hair for good once my father realizes he made a big mistake. Until then, I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse.”
Beck Page 3