Luckily, Cullen’s brother and niece have no interest in his newfound lifestyle, so Andrews International will keep expanding and I’ll remain gainfully employed.
Thank fuck.
I have one retirement under my belt, but the thought of sitting at home has my eye twitching and I’ve alreadyseen the world—the military made sure of that.
So, Chicago it is.
In the earlier years, the Andrews brothers focused on the management of funds for international clients traveling both within the United States and around the world, and the security work reflected that. Basic personal security and some travel with clients was the extent of my day-to-day life.
But each year brought new challenges and opportunities to offer additional services to clients while ensuring Andrews International is protected from internal and external threats. Today, fund management is only a fraction of what they do. Their business has changed, and as the head of security, so has mine.
I went from managing a small team within our city to monitoring the teams across the country while still running my own handpicked group in Chicago.
Our retention is high and our work is efficient which has allowed me to make a name for myself in the organization.
I’m nearly to the cabin when my watch alerts me to an incoming call. I don’t recognize the number, and while I’d usually let it go to voicemail, my gut is telling me to answer it.
And I always trust my gut.
Slowing to a walk, I fish my cell from my pocket and connect the call. “Oakden.”
“Tom, my name is Colt Harrington. I’m at home in Chicago, but I have a house next to Hank and Isla on the lake.”
I stop and peer out at said lake, my head turning to the side toward the property currently hidden by the trees. I know exactly who he is, but it’s an interesting choice for an introduction. He could have said he’s the owner of the Iron Cask, a local restaurant, or that he’s the shortstop for the IllinoisBlues, or that I have a working relationship with his lawyer friend, Roan Ellis.
But he chose Hank and Isla, Cullen’s daughter and son-in-law.
The reason I’m here in Clementine Creek on vacation.
It’s personal.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Harrington?”
“I need a favor, and I don’t care how many I owe in return.”
That feeling in my gut intensifies as I pick up my pace, avoiding a tree root as I move toward the cabin door.
“I’m listening.”
“My sister is a children’s book author but she has another job that has garnered her some dangerous attention. Things have escalated to a level we—I—can’t manage on my own. I want my sister safe.”
Ah.
His sister needs a bodyguard.
A private job.
“I don’t do private security.”
“I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
I need a favor, and I don’t care how many I owe in return.
“I’m on vacation,” I tell him halfheartedly as my gaze falls on my mostly packed luggage sitting next to the bed made with military precision.
For the first time since our conversation started, there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Isla said she’ll have the plane ready first thing in the morning.”
“That’s a long time if you believe your sister is in danger, Mr. Harrington.”
