Ronan nodded. “That sounds like exactly what I need. I’ll want to check out your references, of course.”
I couldn’t give him Dan, and Amelia was out of the country and unreachable. “I can give you the agency I normally contract out of. Ivan Chamberlin can give you all the information you need.”
“All right. I’m assuming everything will be fine. How much time will you need to get everything settled and report here?”
I did a quick mental run-through of my calendar, which was woefully empty. “I can start as soon as you check out my references and give me the A-okay.”
“All right. Give me Chamberlin’s number, and I’ll call him tomorrow morning.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Can you do me a favor and look at the box the ink exploded out of? I know you’re not on the clock yet, but I’ll pay you.”
Again that strange sensation rolled through me to protect Ronan Michaels from harm. A good thing, if I were to become his bodyguard.
“Consider this on the house.” I winked at him, and then my smile faded as I peered into the box. “Do you have a pair of rubber gloves I can wear?”
His brows drew together. “No. I could get some…”
“How about plastic wrap?” I wanted to examine the wreckage of the box but didn’t want to contaminate it, in case I could convince Ronan to turn it over to the police.
“Yeah. I have that. Hold on.” He scrambled away to the cabinet and returned with a roll of it. “Is this good?” His hair flopped over his brow as he handed it over, giving him a boyish look.
I cut off a piece and wrapped it around my hand, then picked up the ink-stained box. It was a crude device, no different from a glitter bomb, except it held several spring latches that were activated when the lid of the box was opened, launching ink-filled vials. I grew angry thinking how badly Ronan could’ve been hurt if his reflexes hadn’t been quick.
“You were right. If this was a caustic substance, like bleach or lye, you could’ve been seriously injured and even blinded.” I bent the cardboard top to check the info on it, but of course, there was no clue as to who’d sent it, and Ronan’s address was printed in nondescript block letters. “Would you like me to take this to the police? I can have them run it for prints.”
Ronan’s eyes hardened. “They won’t care if they find out it’s to help me. Cops and corrections officers have no love for me.”
“Okay.” Hopefully I’d be able to talk him into it later. “How about we save it? Maybe you’ll have a change of heart.” I slid it closer to me. “We can put it away in a plastic bag and revisit it another day.”
Ronan looked like he might put up an argument, but instead surprised me, ducking his head and murmuring, “Okay. If you think so…” He shrugged.
I exhaled with relief. “Great. If you give me a plastic bag, I’ll put it inside, and then you can stick it in a closet or such.”
He watched me slide the plastic grocery bag over the box and took it from me to store it away somewhere in the apartment, leaving me in the kitchen. At his return, he stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and now that he was in the full overhead light, I could see his tattoos more clearly. They artfully, but not completely, covered the scars running up and down his arms. Poor guy. Again, despite his reprehensible behavior, I couldn’t help the twinge of compassion.
“So,” he said, almost shyly, “maybe you can move in tomorrow? I’m tired of feeling unsafe in my home.”
“You still have to check my references.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure they’ll be okay. If tomorrow’s too soon, what about the day after? Does that give you enough time?”
“That’d be perfect. I’m staying with a friend, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to have his place to himself again.” Isaac would think nothing of the sort, but I knew he’d be glad I was working.
Ronan cracked a charmingly crooked smile. “I’ll see you then. I’ll make you a key.”
I stuck out my hand. “I’ll see you at eight a.m. sharp, bags at the ready.”
We shook, and when I left, Ronan stood at his open door, watching me until the elevator door closed. I couldn’t help it; I was already worrying about him being alone and unprotected.
Chapter Seven
Ronan
“Platinum Protection Services, Ivan Chamberlin speaking.”
I hadn’t planned ahead regarding what to ask Gabriel’s agency. I’d never hired anyone and didn’t know the protocol. He didn’t seem the type to lie—something about those big hazel eyes spoke of honesty and trustworthiness. But I couldn’t rely on my instincts anymore, not after the disaster with Cassie and Marty. I thought I knew my own family, after all.
“Hi. My name is Ronan Michaels, and I’d like to hire one of your bodyguards.”
“Yes, Mr. Michaels. We have an excellent cadre of trained personnel. I’m sure we can meet your needs—”
