Destroy us.
“Why now?” I asked, stretching up and rounding the desk until I settled into the soft leather of my chair, pulling it close enough so I could rest my aching arms on the wood. “We’ve beenthecompany for what… four years? Why is… whoever this is… coming after us now?”
Oscar shrugged, peeling back the pink bow and opening the box, not hesitating before taking one of my cookies. The second he pulled one out, I pulled the box away from him and slipped it into my drawer.
He snuffed. “Ass.” He shoved the cookie in his mouth, crumbs spewing everywhere. “But to answer your question, I have no idea.” He mumbled, “Do you think they’re connected?”
“They have to be.” I sat back, taking a bite of the soft raspberry and white chocolate goodness. “If there were more than one organisation that’s capable of getting into our systems without leaving a single trace, then we might as well pack up and admit that we’re fucked.”
“Maybe it’s karma,” Oscar mulled. “Maybe we’ve had too much go right for us, and it’s our turn to have our fair share of shit.”
I rolled my eyes, finishing off the rest of the cookie and rubbing my hands free of crumbs. “Either that, or someone is tired of us being the best and wants his turn on the top bunk.”
Or someone had my voodoo doll and was firing needles into it from a crossbow.
Never in my life had I felt like the world was against me, and I suppose Oscar could be right, and I was getting some bad luck after things finally straightening out for me after turning twenty-seven. And I’d take it all over again. Having four years of success was better than anything either of us ever thought we’d get, which made me confident that we’d get through whatever rough patch this was.
Oscar cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his jeans before standing up from the desk. “I’ve got Nathaniel and Jameson working overtime just to see if they can find anything that I might have missed.” He rubbed his face, tiredness settling over it. “I haven’t left surveillance since yesterday morning.”
“It’s noon,” I nearly gasped.
“Yeah, I know. But I’ve been so fucking worried that this guy was gonna try something again after realising that whatever software he used was working like a dream. I thought that I might catch him in real time instead of waking up to more missing files.”
I stood up from my chair, rounding the desk until I reached him. “Go home.” He eyed me. “I’ll head down to the guys tosee how they’re doing after checking on Meg. I’ve still got a few hours before I need to head back.”
A knowing look cast over his eyes as he walked with me. “I forgot to ask how that was going with the Holland girl.”
My sigh told him practically everything he needed to know.
“That bad?” he asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I reassured him, even if I was starting to second guess myself given everything that had been going on lately.
There were too many words to describe how difficult this job was becoming. Not only did Cora have a smart mouth and know how to use it to get a rise out of me, but the more I tried to assert myself, the more she was pushing back. And I got it, I did. Her last experience with a bodyguard ended in disaster, and I had to remember that it was going to take time for her not to see me as the enemy.
But fuck me, she was difficult.
She’d already managed to kill the tracking on her phone. Rookie move, if she thought that was enough. The real tracker was buried in the hardware—a microchip she’d have to gut the phone to find. And I didn’t think she was the type to go a day without her lifeline.
Her friends were harmless. Wary of me, sure, but that was just her influence bleeding through. The problem was the men. Strays kept showing up at the house like they owned the place, and it was starting to piss me off. The tall one, Jesse Callahan, kept his head down and his mouth shut when I pressed him.The other two? Cowboy Ken and the other English one? They had mouths just as smart as Cora’s.
“Just remember why you took the job,” Oscar sighed. My eyes flicked to him. “It’ll get easier.”
He wasn’t wrong. The endgame—keeping her alive long enough for her to believe she could survive on her own—was the only thing holding me steady. I’d handled clients like her before. Headstrong. Combative. But even the most difficult ones eventually learned. They hardened, sharpened, until they became weapons themselves. Until people like me weren’t needed anymore.
But not a single one of those clients had her ferocity, her determination to piss me off to the point where it felt personal. And I suppose it was. We were the ones who’d aided the asshole who ruined her life. Sure, it was something we had no idea about, but to her we were everything she was fighting to forget, and she was determined to remind me of it every time I saw her.
But I couldn’t crack. Not yet. Not when her life was still at risk. Even though she was wearing me out and it had only been two weeks. Not to mention this text message she’d gotten at that party last Saturday had thrown me through the wringer.
Which reminded me.
“When you’re back in, there’s something else that I need you to look at.”
His brow quirked. “What is it?”
I grunted, scrubbing my hand across the back of my neck. “She got a weird text. Looked like whoever had sent it was either watching her in the room or through the cameras.”
“Stalker?”
