Neither he nor Sawyer was brave enough to point out to their partner that they had other female PPOs and Axl didn’t check up on any of them. At all. No, they rather liked their heads where they were, on top of their shoulders. None of them were Boy Scouts, but Axl could be a scary dude.
“So, Sawyer tells me you’re going to buy this building,” Reagan said, her eyebrows lifted.
Kai waited for the itch, and there it was, not as hot and bright as it had been, but still there. “We’re still thinking about it.”
“You’restill thinking about it. Sawyer and Axl would’ve put the offer in already if they had their way.” Reagan finished her cupcake, crossed her legs, and linked her hands around her knees. “So, I’ve heard rumors that you boys have opened up another division within Cas, doing kidnapping and ransom response consulting.”
Kai frowned. That information was supposed to be just between the three of them. And they hadn’t just started up a new division—he, Axl, and Sawyer had been running missions to rescue kidnapped targets since they’d started the business, with Axl as their primary kidnapping negotiator and investigator. As well as being a special ops Ninja, Axl had wicked intelligence and computer hacking skills, and somehow, God knew how, always managed to quickly and accurately identify the kidnappers and the whys, hows, and, most importantly, whereabouts of the hostage.
If the hostage was in danger and if the family approved the mission, then he, Sawyer, and Axl went in and carried out a snatch-and-grab and brought the hostage home. Clients ranged from the families of oil billionaires and South American soccer stars to governments who publicly maintained that they weren’t prepared to negotiate with terrorists but who occasionally availed themselves of their services to rescue their people held behind enemy lines. Again, sadly, they had more work than they could keep up with.
Kai leaned forward, his expression all business. “How did you hear that?”
Reagan tipped her head. “Is it true?”
“‘Fess up, Reags.”
“Before I got booted as Sir Perry’s PPO, thanks to his jealous new wife who didn’t like the fact that I guarded her new husband’s body, I heard that one of his billionaire Russian cronies—Sir P’s in oil, you know—had a son who was kidnapped. They employed an expert in kidnapping and recovery to negotiate with the kidnappers. Soon afterward the son was rescued, somewhere in Ukraine, in what sounded like a black ops mission, hours before the money drop was supposed to happen.”
It had been colder than a witch’s tit in Kyiv, Kai remembered, and the spoiled son of the oligarch had been held in an upscale home and hadn’t experienced much in the way of deprivation, unlike other hostages they’d rescued before. He’d whined the whole way through his rescue which led to Axl threatening to leave him there if he didn’t shut the fuck up. After taking one look at Axl’s I-will-wipe-the-floor-with-your-face expression, Alexi Akulov had snapped his mouth shut and allowed them to get him the hell out of the house and country.
“And how did you connect that kidnapping rescue to us?”
Reagan smiled. “I asked how his friend heard of the negotiator and Perry said that it was word of mouth, that people passed on the name ‘Morrigan,’ along with a call center number.”
Kai cursed silently. “Morrigan...sounds Irish?”
Reagan narrowed her eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Kai. Morrigan is a Celtic goddess of war, just like Caswallawn is a Celtic god of war. I grew up with Mike’s obsession with Celtic mythology. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t make the connection?” Reagan demanded.
Kai threw his hands up in the air. Reagan was far too smart for her—their—own good. “Ok, yes, Axl is the negotiator and sometimes we do rescues,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Thought so.” Reagan looked smug. “I want in. I want to be part of that team.”
“Hell no!” Apart from the fact that Reagan had no combat and rescue experience, Axl would throw a shit fit of epic proportions.
“Not going to happen, not ever,” Kai told her. “I’m not putting you in any danger and Axl would kill us if he knew we were having this conversation.”
“Axl is not the boss of me.”
Kai didn’t bother to remind her that he was, actually, one of her bosses. She and Axl needed to work out their own issues. “And Mike would come back and haunt us.”
Reagan wrinkled her nose.
“Why do you want to do this anyway?” he demanded.
“I’m bored,” Reagan pouted. “Bored with personal protection, with nothing happening, with sitting around hoping for some action. Bored, bored, bored.”
Fuck. Kai sighed. Like him, boredom tended to lead to trouble. If Sawyer was in charge, then Reagan’s boredom would be his problem. He skimmed his eyes across the pile of folders of clients needing protection and the solution popped into his head. An added bonus would be that it would piss Axl off.
Kai grinned and pulled out a file from the bottom of the pile on his desk. He flipped it open, skimmed over it, and sighed theatrically. “Guess you’re not interested in being Knox Callow’s arm candy then?”
Reagan sat up straighter at the mention of the famous ex-Formula One racing driver turned Hollywood heartthrob. “Uh...maybe?”
“Maybe, my ass,” Kai shot back.
“Why does he need protection?”
“He's had a series of stalker incidences that have escalated. He thinks it’s unnecessary but his manager wants him protected and they want to keep his image as an action hero intact. Hence the arm candy cover. The police are investigating, and they don’t expect the assignment will last more than a month or so.”