“Well, I just returned from that NBA job, so it isn’t my turn, none of the men are free, and while it was Rand’s turn for any close-protection details, someone stuck him on surveillance, so you’re up.”
I groaned and dropped my head to my chest. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. The good news is it’s local.” He placed a red client folder on my desk in front of me. “Senator Malcolm Coben has requested protection for his son Malcolm Coben the third.”
“The golden boy?” I asked, referring to the news media’s nickname for him.
“Yeah, his father’s been receiving threatening notes—”
“I bet he has,” I grumbled. The Senator was a piece of work. He wasn’t just one of the right-wing conservative politicians—he was the right-wing conservative politician.
“And he seems to think they’re directed at his son,” he continued, like I hadn’t said anything. “He wants a guard on him, and you’re it.”
“There isn’t anyone else? What about Gonzales?” I asked, looking up at the whiteboard on my wall that listed all the employees and their current assignments.
“Gonzales is on mandatory downtime; your rule, remember?” In the beginning, our policy was that anytime a case had been difficult, you could ask for time off before the next assignment, but what we found was that the guys never asked for it, even if they needed it. So, I insisted we make it a policy that anytime you came back from a Delta case, which meant extreme danger, you took time off, so he was right, it was my rule. “Let’s go eat lunch with Dad, and then you can take the rest of the day off to get ready to go. They’re expecting you tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
Trey
“Rebecca, could you get me more tea?” Corey Ackerman, Rebecca’s fiancé, asked, holding out his glass to her. The entire afternoon had been like that. Rebecca, could you get me some water? Rebecca, I’d like another piece of pie. Rebecca would rather have a simple wedding cake instead of some elaborate showpiece. Rebecca, would you lick my feet and call me sir? Okay, I made up the last one, but it was implied.
I spent the entire time biting my tongue. I wanted to ask the asshole if his legs were broken. I wanted to ask Rebecca what she was thinking, letting him treat her that way. But I knew the answer. At least at this point, Corey was still asking her to do it. My father didn’t even bother. He just shook his glass at her, and she hopped up to get it.
Eventually, I’d had enough. And even though I knew it would upset my mother because she wanted us to all be hanging out by the pool like the picture-perfect family she imagined us to be, I excused myself and went up to my room. I could always blame it on the letters if she pressed the issue.
I grabbed a book off the nightstand and got comfortable in the window, but I couldn’t concentrate on the story. It felt like everything was out of control. My sister was about to marry some guy our parents had picked like it was the 1800’s. I was back here at home, which was the last place I wanted to be. Someone was sending letters to my father that threatened to out me, and my mother insisted on having afternoon tea like nothing was wrong. I’d been sitting there pondering the insanity that had become my life when there was a knock on the door, and Rebecca stuck her head in.
“Is it okay if I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She let out a sigh and flopped back on the bed. “Daddy and Corey went into his office to talk, and Mother is on the phone with someone from the garden club, so I was able to get away for a bit.”
“Why do you put up with it?” I asked. “He treats you horribly, and you don’t love him. I know you don’t.”
“Mother says love isn’t something that you fall into. It’s something that grows over time,” she insisted.
“And you believe that? What happened to the little girl who liked to play princess and pretend she fell madly in love with her prince charming? The one who dreamed about a beautiful wedding. Don’t give me that Rebecca had rather have a simple wedding cake bull. This is me you’re talking to. I saw the notebooks you had with the cutout pictures of the gorgeous flowers and cakes and dresses you wanted.