In business, never trust a man who can’t look you dead in the face. He’s a god damn liar.
“Will Mr. Baker be joining us soon?”
“He should be down shortly. Please, join me in the sitting room. Would you like coffee?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Baker.”
I motioned to a chair. He sat and retrieved a tablet from his leather briefcase, swiping a finger across the screen. I shifted awkwardly in my seat and folded my hands in my lap.
“How long have you been with Sentinel?” I asked, trying to fill the silence with small talk.
“If it’s all the same to you, Mrs. Baker. I’d like to wait to discuss when Mr. Baker is present.”
“Excuse me?”
He glanced up from the screen and smiled tightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I assume Mr. Baker might have some of the same questions. It would be inefficient to repeat myself.”
I was about to tell him to get the hell out of my house when I heard Grant’s heavy footfalls on the stairs. He materialized a few seconds later, looking dapper and wearing his getting-down-to-business face.
“I apologize for my tardiness. You must be Mr. Stone,” he greeted as Mr. Stone stood to his feet.
“I am. Thank you for having me and considering Sentinel Security,” he said, shaking Grant’s hand firmly. I squinted curiously when it seemed that Mr. Stone’s grip lingered just a second longer than normal, almost like he was sizing Grant up. Grant’s posture tightened ever so slightly. I wondered if he picked up on it, too.
“We appreciate you making time on such short notice.”
“Of course. We make a habit of being available when clients need us most.”
Mr. Stone’s gaze flicked briefly toward me before returning his focus to my husband. My skin prickled. It felt like he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
Either this man is a racist or a misogynist. Probably both.
“You’ve briefed yourself on our situation, correct?” Grant asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Then I’ll be direct. We’re not looking for showy detail. We need discretion, and most importantly, loyalty.”
“Understood. Sentinel Security prides itself on operating covertly and effectively, with 100% allegiance to our clients. We discreetly and decisively eliminate risks without hesitation.”
Grant shot me a look, the thrill in his eyes unmistakable. Mr. Stone told Grant exactly what he wanted to hear.
Stone might as well slide the tablet over so Grant can sign on the dotted line. He’s sold.
“That’s….” Grant pauses to rub his hands together—something he did when he wasn’t trying to appear too eager. “That’s reassuring. I would never want it to come down to that, but my family’s safety is all that matters to me.”
“Tell us about Sentinel,” I interjected, earning a soft look of disapproval from Mr. Stone.
“Sentinel Security is a Texas-based firm. We provide close protection, corporate and private. Our agents are ex-military and law enforcement guys who eat and breathe ‘Protect and Serve’ with some specialized in intelligence. They’re quiet, professional, and results-driven. We’ve never lost a soul.”
“And how long have you been with Sentinel, Mr. Stone?”
“A decade this November.”
“What did you do previously?”
“I was in the FBI. Officially, I was the Director of the Intelligence Division.”
