“Let’s hope the asset does.” Gray nods to the folder in my hand.
And just like that, the ease of the day is erased. The folder is slim, but I’m already dreading what’s in it. “I start Monday?” From what Gray said earlier, it’s babysitting duty. Follow an oil heiress around as she makes final preparations for her wedding, then make sure she gets there in one piece.
I’ve never turned down a job before, but if she turns out to be a Bridezilla...
“Need you sooner.” He nods at the folder and takes his phone out.
Setting my coffee on the edge of Mae’s desk, I flip the folder open.
And feel the floor drop out from under me.
My breath stutters as if I got sucker-punched in the stomach, and my heart skips a beat. The pages crumple in my hands when a shiver of awareness rolls through me, sharp and uncomfortable. I skim the details—Camille Whitaker, 21, birthday on New Year’s—and land back on her picture because I can’t look away.
She’s exquisite, with auburn hair and eyes so light blue it feels like they’re looking through me. There’s something behind her polite but fake smile. Something that tugs at my attention and keeps me locked on her photo. It’s hidden in the depths of those clear eyes. Sadness maybe. Or resigned acceptance.
I don’t see the heiress I expected. Or the asset assigned to me.
I see the woman I need to protect.Now.
I can’t explain why my primal instincts are roaring to keep her safe, or why this feels different than a job. Christ, I haven’t even met this woman. She could be exactly what I feared. Spoiled. Entitled.
My reaction doesn’t make sense, so I lock it down and focus on Gray. “What happened to change the timeline?”
His eyes flick over me, as if seeing something he didn’t expect in me. Then he taps his phone, and a message plays.
“Mr. Calhoun... This... this is Floyd Whitaker.” His voice trembles, and I hear him drag in a shaky breath. “Camille is gone. She... she might have run, but I don’t think so. A chair was turned over, and she left the... anyway, I need your man here sooner. Maybe a couple of men. I need to know my daughter is safe. Even if she fled. I’m afraid he... No. He wouldn’t. He’s getting what he wants.” Whitaker’s voice grows softer on the last line. He clears his throat and says in a stronger voice, “Find her. Make sure she’s okay and bring her back. I’ll deal with the rest.”
The rambling message is half incoherent. Two phrases separate and park in my chest, engines idling. Waiting for me to take action.
Camille is gone.
Find her.
“When?” The word comes out half feral.
Gray doesn’t even blink at my odd reaction. “Half an hour ago. Midland is over three hours away.”
“I’ve called for a lift?—”
“No time. The trail’s already growing cold. I’ll find her faster if I’m mobile.” I don’t add what he already knows—I work best when I make plans on the fly. It’s the only way I can guarantee the safety of those I protect. The military taught me that in the harshest manner possible.
I snap the folder closed and am halfway to the door when Gray says, “I chose you for this job because you won’t fail her. Bring her home, King.”
My hand curls around the doorjamb, his words making me pause. When I find her, she’ll go back to her family and her fiancé. That’s the assignment.
Something twists in my gut—like a possessive snarl trying to surface. I don’t acknowledge it. I can’t.
Without a backward glance, I stride to my truck and head for Midland.
CHAPTER TWO
CAMILLE
It’sthe worst day of my life, and I’ve never looked better.
There’s a cruel joke in there. The universe’s way of reminding me that even the terrible moments in life have a certain beauty. Even when you don’t want to look.
“Pretty, pretty,” my hairdresser tuts. She pins another curl up, smiling as she sprays it into place.
