Plain Sight Page 3

  Fuck. Dylan had told me in therapy, two weeks ago that when I swore, he was worried something bad had happened again. I’d tried to curb it, and did pretty well most of the time.

  I just couldn’t help it. We were moving on without my wife of ten years. The wife I was trying to have another child with. And the one who was supposed to take a pregnancy test in just two days.

  And now, that whole future was gone.

  I knelt down and opened my arms for my son. He walked into them, and I held him close. “I’m sorry, Son. It’s not bad things. It’s just really hard for Daddy to leave you.”

  “I know, Daddy. But Doctor Billings said we need to go back to real life.”

  My eyes brimmed with tears, and I desperately dashed them away. “I know, Dylan. I know. I just worry.”

  “Officer Garabaldi said there would be a policeman outside all the time. We’ll be okay, Daddy. I promise it’s not that bad. I didn’t like school, but I did it.”

  I pulled him in even tighter. This boy was more than I deserved. “Okay, Son. I know those police are here to protect us. I’ll go to work. If you need me—” I looked up Michelle and David, “—you call me immediately. Mister Nathaniel and Mister Victor said I can come help you anytime I need to.”

  The older couple nodded, understanding.

  I gave him one more hug and headed down the stairs of the house we were all sharing. Determined not to look back and lose my nerve, I climbed into the car and didn’t look up at the three of them on the porch as I waved and backed out.

  I turned left instead of right. There was no way I could drive by my house right now, not with a raw wound pulled open again. The For Sale sign finally had an “Under Contract” addition on it, and I was going to be glad when the house sold. I hadn’t been back since the day Lieutenant Garabaldi pulled me away from my wife’s dead body, kicking and screaming.

  Now, I just wouldn’t go back there. Ever. The couch where the bullet had ended her life was gone. I didn’t care where. But I hadn’t been able to go in. Emmy and my mother had gone in to retrieve our clothes and a few other things.

  I took the next turn and drove away from the house. This was killing me slowly. I wanted to go back and hide. But David was right. We had to start getting on with our lives.

  My son had been brave enough to go back to school last week. This week was my turn. Next week was David. Michelle could start when she wanted since she could work remotely all day every day.

  Because of everything that had happened, I had an unmarked shadowing me. I had been given a spot in the garage, and the unmarked parked next to me. I nodded to the man in the car and headed for the stairs to my office.

  This wasn’t the hard part. None of this was the hard part. It was the times when I wanted to ask Helen for an opinion, tell her a joke, give her a hug, ask what was for dinner or what we should get Dylan for his birthday. Should we give him more screen time, or make sure he went outside more.

  Half of me was missing.

  I pushed into my office and found Victor Walsh standing there.

  My office was packed in a few bins.

  “Oh…” I said.

  “Hey, Vaughn, welcome back.” He stuck his hand out. I grasped it, and braced myself for the pink slip.

  He held up a key. “Here you go. I didn’t want to move everything without you here.”

  My brow wrinkled.

  He smiled and shook his head. “I take it you didn’t get my message this morning. We’re moving your office. I talked to Billings and he said it would be better to move you out of here. We have a new office set up on the executive floor, and we’re going to be handing you some more responsibilities.”

  Collapsing against my desk, the sob just burst out of me without reason. I covered my eyes with my hand, and tried to control myself.

  Victor’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Let it out, man. Just let it out.”

  “God fucking damn it!” I punched the desktop. “I can’t even deal with a fucking promotion at work without turning into a blubbering asshole!”

  “You are coming back from one of the hardest fucking things anyone could possibly have to deal with, Vaughn. And we’re just trying to help you adjust to this. I know your son went back last week. Billings wouldn’t have spoken to me if he thought you could handle sitting in this office. A change of scenery will help.” He blasted out a breath. “Don’t think we don’t feel responsible for this, Vaughn. Everything that happened was because you were trying to help us.”

  “No one is responsible for my wife’s death except the motherfuckers who raped her, beat her, and put a bullet in her brain. And they are going to come after me. It’s only a matter of time. I don’t even care about that. I just want my son safe. I want him to have a normal life, and I don’t know how to do that now.”

  Victor patted my shoulder again, and turned to the door. “Come on in.”

  I looked up and a big man walked in. He was enormous, muscular, bearded and really, really there.

  “We’ve been worried about you when Garabaldi said we only have two more weeks of monitoring left on you. So, my brother and I agreed we would have private security for you. This is Nolan Drescher. He’ll be shadowing you from now on until we figure out who’s doing this.”

  This hulking monster of a man-mountain was going to shadow me?

  “Mister Willard.” He nodded.

  “Mister Drescher.”

  “The way this works is that you don’t pay attention to him. At all. He’ll be near your house, and he’ll be around at all times here. We’ve also got one of his associates on your son. I’d tell you to warn him and his grandparents so they don’t freak out if they do catch him out of the corner of their eye.”

  “Vic—”

  “No. This is the least we can do.”

  “A bodyguard.” I sighed. “I’ll accept it as long as it’s understood my son is the most important person in this venture.”

  “It’s understood,” Nolan said.

  I looked at Victor. “You’re serious about the promo?”

  “Man, we have had our eyes on you for years,” he said. “Come on. Let me show you your new digs. And I’ll help you set up a want ad for an assistant.”

  I paused in the door. “What?”

  Victor laughed. “Your new position comes with an assistant.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “But choose wisely. I did, and things haven’t been the same ever since.”

  Chapter Four

  Bridget

  I picked at the huge plate of food in front of me, and sighed. This was so different from the life I’d had just four months ago, and I was starting to get punchy.

  Or shooty. A lot shooty.

  The range had become my second home, once I had managed to get all the helpful Wild West Testosterone Rangers to step off.

  “Hey, lady, need some help learning how to shoot that piece?” The man was tall and bulky, but most of it was beer gut.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” said the obvious police officer next to me.

  “She’s got herself a pretty little Beretta and I’m sure that’s more than she’s handled before.” He smiled. “You know how to handle those magazines?”

  “I really wouldn’t do that,” the officer said again.

  “I’m good, thanks,” I said, sliding the cartridge in.

  “Quite a bit of fire power.”

  I rolled my eyes, and pulled on the safety glasses and ear protection. “Personal piece.”

  “That an APX?” he asked loudly enough to hear over the ear plugs.

  I chambered the first round, and the officer next to me tapped the guy on the shoulder and waved him off. “I would just leave the lady alone.”

  “Look, Officer, if I wanted your help, I’d call 9-1-1. Thanks.”

  I hit the target distance and put it at max range, twenty-five yards out.

  “Oh, honey, you should start—”

  I imagined his head in the target and squeezed off all seventeen ro
unds, one right after the other. I reeled the target back in.

  Every one, dead center. As usual.

  I ejected the magazine on the counter and slammed another one home, then turned to look at Ranger Jackass.

  I slipped the one ear cuff back. “Want lessons?”

  The cop next to us cracked up laughing. “I told you not to do that.”

  “Bitch,” the guy mumbled.

  “I’m not a bitch. My balls are bigger than yours. Go play with your pretty six-shooter, and let me know when you want to learn how to shoot for real.”

  He took a step toward me.

  I laughed. “I have a fucking Beretta APX in my hand, and a mag with seventeen nine millimeter rounds after pumping them into a target twenty-five yards out. And you’re going to come at me? You think I would hesitate to pump one of these into your balls?”

  Growling, he turned and marched out of the lanes. The cop leaned over and stuck out his hand. “Garabaldi.”

  “McInnis,” I answered.

  “Related to Killian?”

  “My brother.”

  “Pleasure. Well done, by the way. That guy likes to help all the ladies, and I’ve warned him off before.”

  “Yeah, I’m used to big balled-tiny brained mouth breathers. They always under estimate the five foot six chick with red hair and pair of hips. Until I blast a target like that.”

  He nodded. “Nice piece, by the way.”

  “Oh, this old thing?”

  We both laughed, and after a few more idle exchanges, we both went back to our range time. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t want to be anything other than polite.

  So when Garabaldi walked up to the table I was sitting at, I almost crapped myself.

  “Hey, Simon!” Cece stood and gave him a quick hug.

  Everyone at the table—which was a ridiculous amount of people, including my brother, me, two men with the last name Walsh, one named Franz, someone Cece had called Emmy, and several others I couldn’t remember—welcomed him and the two women who were with him.

  He grinned at me and sat down. “McInnis.”

  “Garabaldi.” I nodded with a smirk.

  “Nessa, Laicy, this is the lovely woman I told you about at the range today.” He smiled.

  Killian’s head whipped around. “Range? Birdie you have a gun?”

  “I do.” I nodded. “I like to keep in practice with it.”

  “I had no idea,” he said.

  “She’s really good with it,” Garabaldi said. “She had to put down a testosterone beast at the range today.”

  “I can see that.” Cece winked at me. “Oh, hey. Simon. Is the police department recruiting right now? My sister-in-law is in the market for a job.”

  I waved my hand. “Oh, no. No. I’d be a terrible cop. Just terrible. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. But that would not be a good idea.”

  “Want a temp job?”

  I looked down the table to one of the Walshes. The tall, dark one next to the man name Franz was staring at me down the table.

  “You have one?”

  “Yeah, we have a new regional manager and he’s on the hunt for an assistant, but he needs someone to fill in immediately,” Walsh said. “I don’t know how long it’ll be for, but it’s something to get you something on a resume.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know I don’t have anything on my resume?”

  “Because Killian told me, and it sounds like you just landed from Hogwarts.”

  “Ah, then you’ll know what this is.” I lifted my hand and flipped him off, British style.

  He leaned back and the man seated next to him was laughing his ass off. “She’s got you, Victor. That was rude.”

  “The offer is honest,” Victor said.

  “Do it,” Cece said. “You’re getting bored at home and I can’t keep teaching you how to use the ropes.”

  “What?!” Killian gasped.

  Cece and I burst out laughing at his expression.

  But the truth was, she had been teaching me shibari. Since the only things I had to do were shoot, play with ropes, and look for a job, I had plenty of time with all of it—only two of them successfully.

  I didn’t relish being an admin, but I did need something to do and some kind of income. Killian and I were well-off, but I didn’t want to sit around eating bonbons and drawing off the trust fund. I’d be able to look for something that better suited to my skill set.

  I nodded. “Sure. If it’s temp, I’ll do it.”

  “Perfect.” Victor nodded. “Tomorrow, nine at Walsh-Tyndale. I’ll let the lobby know you’re coming.”

  So at nine in the morning, I walked into the massive and impressive three story lobby of the Walsh-Tyndale building. I had to admit, I was impressed. It was an old steel corporation’s building the original Walsh bought and had slowly refurbished, and the two brothers kept the place beautiful.

  “Can I help you?” the guard asked.

  “I’m here to see Victor Walsh?”

  “You have an appointment?”

  “Yes.” I totally had no idea if he’d put me on the books yet.

  The guard picked up the phone, said a few words, asked my name and then put it back down. “Mrs. Walsh will be down for you in a moment.”

  Mrs. Walsh? I had thought that Victor was married to Franz Dorn. But I wasn’t in a position to argue, and I was ushered to the side while other people went through the detector arch with the guards.

  Not a full five minute later, one of the women from the night before strode across the lobby like she owned the place—and I realized that essentially, she did.

  Emmy Walsh.

  I smiled and stood, and saw that she already had her hand out for me. “Good morning, Bridget. I’m glad to see you here.” She leaned over to the guard. “Hey, Tims, I got her.”

  The guard nodded and let Emmy lead me out of the check area and into the main part of the building.

  “Have you ever done any admin work?”

  “Some, yes, a few years ago.” On assignment, in southern France and it ended with me arresting one operational partner and the other jumping into traffic to avoid the charges. I coughed and shook my head to clear the memory. “So can I ask why the security?”

  Laughing lightly, she walked us over to a single elevator. “Well, it’s a precaution, but the Walshes have a bad habit of attracting bad luck, and we had an incident with a gun in the office a few years ago. So we just have security.”

  That made me feel good. They realized that they were targets and acted. But I just nodded at her.

  The elevator doors opened as soon as Emmy scanned her card on the wall. “So, you know the basics of admin. That’s good. I can help if you need direction, but there’s something else.”

  The door closed and Emmy scanned the card again, pressing the hold button.

  I was suddenly on high alert.

  “The person you are admining for has just recently lost is wife in a violent act of retribution. I wanted to warn you about this, because my husband and his brother aren’t pushing him to be there and be on point all the time. We need you to pick up the slack for when he gets overwhelmed, or has to go pick up his son. So while the official title is ‘administrative assistant’ the truth is that you’re going to partner with him for now. He has a bodyguard we’ve provided for him and one for his son. But he saw his wife die, and it’s really fucked with his head. We need to give him time and space to find his new normal.”

  “So babysitting?”

  “Not even close. We need you pick up his slack when he has a bad day.”

  “That’s a tall order.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, and released the car to take us to the top floor of the building. “But he’s a good guy and he needs time to get back to himself.”

  Nodding, I wanted to smirk. This felt like a debriefing and I could handle that. I wished all jobs had a debrief like this one. I school my features and nodded instead. “Got it.”
<
br />   She gave me the side-eye halfway up. “No questions about pay?”

  “I’m really not here for money. I’m here for a job, for something to keep me away from Cece and begging her to teach more Shibari. I’m already dangerous at it since I don’t have anything to do with my time.”

  Emmy chuckled. “That woman and her ropes.”

  I sighed. That woman and her ropes with my brother. I had to start wearing ear plugs to bed. I didn’t even want to guess what the two of them did in that basement, but their moans and yelps and groans—and the mysterious midnight visit of another woman—left me thinking about it too much.

  My brother’s sex life was not my business, but it was really clear he liked being tied up. Really clear. Especially when he walked out with the rope marks on his arm in the morning.

  Damn it.

  Still the shibari lessons were just one more thing I could put in my box of skills, and that made me happy.

  The morning was just spent getting my stuff together: getting IT to set up my workstation, HR to get my paperwork straightened. All normal. And after a delicious lunch I was invited to share with Emmy and her husband, the younger Walsh, we finally headed to the desk I was would be sitting at for the duration of my tenure, just outside of Vaughn Willard’s office.

  He was facing the windows, and the door was closed. But the big office window gave me an unfettered view of my new, temporary boss on the phone, and clearly disturbed.

  “So, Vaughn will be out in a few. Just keep in mind what I said. Don’t be shy in telling him to go if he has to. If Killian trusts you, so do we, and we trust that you can pick up his slack.”

  “I can,” I said. “My last admin job was a clusterfucker of a company, and I could keep that running. I’m good at adapting.”

  Unless apparently, adapting meant being home, and bored. I was no damn good at that.

  “He’s on the phone with a buyer who has been a pain in the ass since they signed the contract. He’s one of our best negotiators, so we’re happy he’s back. But it’s been hard on him, losing his wife.”

  I glanced at the man pacing back and forth in the office and turned back to Emmy. “Can you tell me what happened? It’ll probably be better if I know the whole story.”