to Liam Quick. He’d woken up knowing he needed help and had called the one person he knew with recent experience in security. Cade Connolly, a pop star, had recommended QuickFire Securities. But they were in London, and he was in Seattle. Of course he should have known he’d end up with CDR guarding his back.
Louis closed his eyes. He must have dozed, because when he woke up there was a man he didn’t recognize in his room. He coughed and the man was by his side. Ex-military judging by his demeanor and his hair. He looked tired but alert.
“Mr. Romero? I’m Liam Quick.” His British accent was more noticeable than on the phone.
“Thank you for coming over here,” Louis rasped.
“Here.” Quick offered him a cup with a straw.
The cool water eased Louis’s dry throat. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Quick plucked the cup from Louis, easing him back onto the pillows. “We need to talk, but only when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” Louis sighed.
He wasn’t ready, but it had to be done.
Quick eyed him for a long moment before he spoke. “Okay. You told the cops you didn’t know why they attacked you.”
“I did?” Liam couldn’t remember that conversation either.
“You don’t remember that discussion?”
“No.”
“The two men who attacked you were part of the Monaghan team.” Quick pulled out his phone. “Jake Bell and Christopher Murphy.”
“I recognized their voices.”
“That was good,” Quick praised. “But they know as little as you. They were paid to hit you.”
“But why?”
“They don’t know. They didn’t care. The money was good, and both men had debts to pay off.”
“How many of my staff were involved? The kitchen staff, some of them knew. They wouldn’t look at me as I went through the kitchen.”
“Yeah, we pieced that together too. You kept saying “Carter knew,” when you woke up. From what we could gather, three of your staff knew it was about to happen. Carrie Rose—”
Louis stared at him, betrayed. “She asked me to take the bag out.”
Quick nodded. “Plus Dan Carter and Miles Roland.”
“I thought Carter liked me.”
Could he have sounded any more pathetic?
Quick gave him a sympathetic look. “Money’s a powerful motivator, Mr. Romero.”
“I guess so. Are they locked up too?”
“They are at the moment. We expect them to be arraigned tomorrow.”
“What happens to me?”
“We need to plan your security arrangements.” Quick hesitated and then said, “Louis, I’m sorry but I need to ask, are you a boy?”
Louis stared at him in horror. “What? No. No. Never.”
“It’s okay if you are. We can find you a Daddy bodyguard.”
“That was a long time ago,” Louis said brokenly. “That part of my life is all over.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Quick said cryptically.
“What do you mean?” Louis asked, wary now.
“I think we have the perfect bodyguard for you.”
Louis closed his eyes. “Please don’t say his name.”
“He’s the right man for you.”
“Tell him that.”
Craig
“Mr. Booker.”
“Go away,” Craig said, not bothering to divert his gaze from his bike magazine. He’d been enjoying a rare free morning sitting outside a café in Montmartre, Paris. It was early in the day and only the locals sat yawning over their café and brioche, the tourists yet to spill out of their hotels.
“I’m sorry.”
The English male voice didn’t sound sorry.
“I’m on vacation.”
“Technically, you’re still employed,” the voice pointed out.
Craig gritted his teeth. “For two more weeks. And my assignment is finished.”
“We have another one.”
“No,” he said flatly and looked up to see a man staring at him. Hard gray eyes, a nose that had been broken more than once. A buzz cut which told Craig the man may be a civilian in practice but not in his head. An expensive herringbone wool suit with a crisp pale blue shirt, bespoke by the way it fitted. Huh, the suit didn’t go with the man.
“My name is Liam Quick. I own QuickFire Securities.”
Craig shrugged. “I don’t know you or your company.”
“We’re new. You know…uh…an associate of mine.”
The hesitation told Craig all he needed to know.
“You can tell Josh Cooper to fuck off.”
He was surprised by Quick’s broad smile. “It’s the usual response.”
Craig didn’t care. He just wanted the man to go away. “Tell me what you want and get lost.”
“We need someone with your skill set.”
“Ask Quinn Ryder.”
“He’s permanently busy.”
Yeah, Craig had heard that.
“Then try Griff or Mo.”
He was just throwing names into the wind. He knew what skill set Quick sought. He’d heard the rumors.
“They’re unavailable,” Quick said.
Craig knew that too.
“I don’t want another boy,” Craig said, his voice harsh. “You’ve wasted your time.” He went back to his