“Shane! What’s going on?”
He panted into the phone. “I’m headed to Kenton Street. I came here to meet a potential new client. Turned out to be a young guy. Now a dead, young guy. I didn’t get his name. And shit, I just left him there. I ran and left a poor dead kid on that field.”
“There are bullets involved, so you did what you had to. Is there any place for you to take cover?”
“Not yet. I think there’s a building up ahead.” Headlights blinded him, and he dashed to the side of the street and completely missed the low, wood railing. He tripped over it, crashing into a mass of snarled underbrush and dropping his gun just as sirens filled the air. “Shit,” he groaned as he lay there. More headlights swept past, this time with swirling red lights above. “Cops are here.”
“I can hear them. I’m on my way.”
“Nah.” Thin, dead branches cracked as he rolled over and felt around for his weapon. He’d never find it in the dark. Of course, the cops had those high-powered flashlights. How fucking embarrassing to have to ask them to help find his damn gun. He pushed to his feet. “You don’t have to come. I’m sure the cops will run this guy off. I have my car.”
“Fuck that. I’m coming anyway.”
Another police car passed him, then screeched to a halt.
He pulled small branches and leaves out of his curly hair, just as a policeman stepped out of his car, gun drawn. “I was just spotted. Gotta go.”
“Spotted by who?” Hollis shouted. “Damn it, Shane!”
“Cops, Hollis,” he hissed into the phone. “I really have to go.”
Shane hung up as the policeman yelled at him to stop. He held his hands up. Fuck, it was gonna be a long night.Chapter TwoQuinn grabbed his coffee cup and threw back the last swallow. He paused, cringing as the cold, bittersweet dregs hit his tongue, before tossing the empty cup in the trash. God, he hated cold coffee, but he didn’t have time to grab a fresh one. The boss was already waiting.…And Rowe Ward wasn’t very good at waiting. He snagged the tablet he used to take notes off the edge of his desk and gave a quick wave to his office-mate, Gidget, before jogging the short distance down the hall.
This had to be about a new client. He’d just finished updating the security system for the Paxtons, and he’d submitted his estimates for the Carlisle job. Rowe had to know that he was at loose ends. Gidget was up to her eyeballs in setting up the new email servers in Geneva. She just growled at him anytime he offered to help. The woman was determined to handle it alone. If Rowe didn’t get him a new client to work on soon, Andrei was going to hear about his so-called free schedule and start talking about getting him in for new self-defense classes.
He respected the hell out of the COO and former MMA fighter, but Quinn would never call himself a sports or physical activity kind of guy. He kept in shape…mostly. He certainly wasn’t like the bodyguards wandering Ward Security with their mountains of muscles and tight abs. He was simply fit. He preferred video games over sparring mats. Old-school monster movies over lifting weights and running laps to build endurance.
Stopping just outside Rowe’s office door, Quinn ran a hand down the front of his dark blue button-down shirt, brushing aside a few stray crumbs from the PB&J he’d had for lunch. Most days he was a T-shirt and jeans guy, but all his favorite shirts were dirty, leaving him with the button-down. As much as he hated to admit it, the time had come to trek back to the apartment and do a load of laundry. But he’d worry about that later. He had a meeting with the boss.
After one quick knock on Rowe’s door, he stepped inside without waiting for him to call since he was already expected. But he stopped short when he saw the tall man standing next to Rowe’s desk, his hands on his slender hips as he grinned down at Rowe. Quinn couldn’t stop his gaze from quickly sweeping over his broad shoulders and chest that tapered into a narrow waist. His eyes snapped back up to find a pair of brown eyes that twinkled as they finished checking him out as well.
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled, instantly taking a step backward. “I can come back.” Rowe rarely saw clients. He had customer representatives that handled talking to the them. Of course, with Rowe’s lack of a filter, it was better if he didn’t talk to the new clients directly.
“No, come in, Quinn,” Rowe said sharply. He stood behind his desk, drawing Quinn’s gaze to his shorter but broader frame. His dark red hair stood up slightly as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Quinn never took that as a particularly good sign.