“You have a look on your face I’d pay good money to decipher,” she says in a voice so low it’s as if she’s talking to herself.
Words spoken before a storm like this feel stealthy and classified, like the first brisk wind will sweep them away.
“Not sure you’d want to hear what I’m thinking right now.”
“I definitely do, Mr. Master.” She takes a step closer to me, her voice low. “Try me, sir.”
“I’m thinking of the terms of our contract, the types of terms that professionals would never consider.”
A beat passes. I watch as her tongue darts out and runs across her chapped lips. “Perhaps professionalism is overrated.”
A whistle blows three times in succession. The spell is broken. My breathing stills. Even the breeze over the water seems to cease. I whip my head around to look at the house.
“It’s an alarm,” she says. “Isn’t it?”
I don’t respond.
The heavy sound of feet running toward the house comes from the training area. I listen, braced for the second alarm as I do a mental tally of all staff on hand. My men in training. Joe, Claude, Henri.
Violet.
The back door’s yanked open, and Joe stands, barely visible under the shadow of the awning.
“What is it? Who sounded the alarm?”
“I did. When you didn’t answer your phone, sir. It’s Skylar.”
Skylar? I can’t be hearing him right. Skylar?
I know the answer to my question before I ask it. I’m not sure why I do. “Is it urgent?”
He winces, as if recoiling from an invisible blow. “She’s missing, sir.”
Storm clouds break open, and a torrent of rain sweeps down. I run for cover and barely catch myself from grabbing Violet’s hand to tug her along with me. She doesn’t need my help, but it’s tempting. The only woman in my life who means something to me is in danger, and the frantic need to control something consumes me.
Violet isn’t mine.
We’re soaked before we get to the door.
I turn to Violet and note the desperation in her eyes. She wants this so badly, she’s trembling.
I grab a fistful of dish towels from the kitchen drawer and toss them at her. Not missing a beat, she wipes her eyes and pushes wet hair out of her face. The straps of her heels are slung around one finger, and as we walk through the kitchen, she shoves her torn dress in the trash bin.
Change of fucking plans. If my sister’s at risk, I need Violet’s help, and I need it now. I wanted to recruit her for a purpose just like this, because I needed a woman on my team who could get shit done, and her list of qualifications outnumbers everything else.
“When can you start?”
She blinks. Her reaction will be telling. I note a flash of alarm that quickly fades to eager excitement. “Immediately.”
“We negotiate terms of your contract with me today.”
She nods eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
“You start now, Miss Price.”
Chapter 4
Violet
* * *
Skylar. I know enough about body language to know Skylar is someone who matters to him. He moves like he’s at war, preparing for an ambush, and whoever’s responsible for hurting Skylar’s going down.
Yikes.
Who is it? An ex? I doubt she’s a current girlfriend or significant other. He’s the type that would want a woman who mattered to him nearby, under his protection and watchful eye. I haven’t missed the way his team trains right here on his property.
I go through a myriad of feelings at once.
Elation—he hired me!
Fear—will this go the way I planned?
Panic—what does this mean? What’s happened to Skylar?
He walks at a clip I have to run to keep up with, either oblivious or unconcerned with my trailing behind him. I don’t mind it, though. Moving fast burns the adrenaline that courses through me like fire.
When we reach the house, a tall, lanky man with a shaved head comes out. Two meaty pit bulls circle Lanky Man’s legs, prowling as if they smell the blood of someone new in their territory.
My heart swells. God, I love pit bulls. What most people don’t know about them is that they used to be nanny dogs, hired to watch over and protect babies and small children. A cross between terriers and bulldogs, pit bulls were once used as symbols of American strength during the First World War.
They’re fiercely loyal and protective to a fault, though. And once trained to guard illegal activity, drug dealers and the like used them for their own benefit. When they attack, they don’t let go. They’ll bite to kill. And while that might’ve once kept children safe, pit bulls have gotten a bad rap in recent years.
I love them. I want to kneel in front of them and nuzzle their chocolate-brown necks and scratch their perky ears.
I’ve always been attracted to powerful, lethal creatures.
* * *
“Just got a call from Lottie.”