“What am I missing?” Blayze asked.
Cannon shook his head. “Nothing. Sutton will wait and talk to you at the club tonight.”
But it looked like Sutton had other plans. The man always did make his own rules. He planted his feet in place, arms folded over his chest. “I talked to you about accepting a private protection job here in California,” he said under his breath.
Cannon shook his head. “Couldn’t have just waited…”
“The woman in question is Ms. Vasco. She introduced herself to you a moment ago.”
A bit of heat stirred low in his belly. “Okay,” Blayze said.
“Her father wants you for the job, but you’ll have to start soon.”
Blayze considered that. Since Mom’s prognosis, he’d been jumping from one item of business to the next. The funeral was the final thing on his list, and the last thing he needed was time on his hands. “How soon?”
Sutton shot Cannon a look before settling his eyes back on Blayze. “Tomorrow.”
Blayze nodded. Sutton never was one to beat around the bush.
“If you want me to help out for a day or two…” Cannon started, but Blayze shook his head.
“No. Thanks though, man.” He turned to Sutton. “It’s about time I get back to work. Tomorrow’s perfect.”
“That’s my man,” Sutton said. “Heart of a warrior.”
Cannon and Blayze nodded before returning the phrase. “Heart of a warrior.”
Chapter 2
“So, what do you think of him?”
Sophia heard her father’s question, but it took a moment to process it. Her gaze was stuck on an angel statue along the grassy hillside. Ivory marble with gray veins, the contrast muted by the deeply tinted windows of the luxury town car.
“Sophia?” he prodded.
“Sorry,Papi.” She turned to look at him, her eyes adjusting to the cool lighting within the back seat. “I don’t really know what I thought of him.”
“From what Sutton says, Mr. Brockton is perfect.” His expression changed into one he wore during his speeches. One that oozed passion before he even spoke a word. “The man’s a retired SEAL,mi bonita, do you not know what that means?”
Sophia thought back on the short conversation she’d had with Blayze Brockton. Her face flushed with intense heat at the mere recollection. He’d made her feel like an idiot, shouting theHooyahcheer and sticking her fist in the air while he stood there staring. He could have at least given her somesort of courtesy reply.
Her father eyed Roman—retired detective turned driver and close family friend— pointedly before giving her thathow-could-you-embarrass-melook. “The man was at hismadre’sfuneral, Sophia.”
Sophia turned her face toward the window. A row of palm trees swayed against the blue sky. “You’re right.” Shame kicked in hard. It wasn’t fair to judge him based on that one meeting.
“It’s possible you’re in danger,chiquita. Realdanger. You refuse to cancel your speaking engagements—which I support,” he said, holding up a finger. “But only so long as you accept protection. Now, I didn’t have to let you meet the guy before I hired him. I was doing that to be nice—”
“Nice?” Sophia hadn’t meant to shriek but she could hardly contain it. “Sorry, Roman,” she said before turning back to her father. “Ofcourse,I should be able to have a say. You want the guy to be myshadowuntil further notice.”
“You’re impossible,” he growled. Nicolas Vasco wasn’t known to take things lightly. In his years as a prosecutor he’d cracked down on crime with a heavy hand. Later, as an elected District Attorney, he’d maintained his tough reputation. “Listen, I trust Sutton Smith. And if he says Blayze Brockton is the best man for the job, then by dang that’s exactly who I’m going to get.”
Sophia knew she was being difficult. The frustrating thing was, it was hard to know how seriously to take the situation. The situation being three ominous packages, delivered two weeks apart. The first two had been so… random she hadn’t known what to make of them. But then came that third package. The one that came to her door three days ago, right on schedule.
This time,Papáinsisted she wait and let Roman open it. Wrapped in shiny green paper, complete with ribbon curls and a fancy bow, it resembled the others.
Sophia had stared at the package while Roman tore it open, a sick feeling growing in her gut. Papa had always suspected foul play inMama’saccident. The rollover that took her life two-and-a-half years ago.
Roman snatched the reflective glasses off his face, his expression like a stone. Angry. Hard. Cold. Sophia had never seen him like that. His wife, Tiffany, who’d come for moral support, scooted closer in and hovered over the open top, the look of horror pulling at her soft features.
