“Oh wait,” I offered. “Remember my friend, Rian? She lives in Paris. I can stay with her. We’ve been friends since boarding school. No one knows her.”
Wilder stroked his jaw, rubbing at his stubble. “That might work, actually. Does she have security?”
“I— I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. Breck, see if you can find her security company and tap into their systems. See if she’s got any security.”
“Well, she’s an actress, so she probably does, in order to protect herself,” I said.
Roman stiffened at that. “Wait, that Rian?”
“Yes. You met her once when you came to pick me up at school.”
He swallowed hard then. What was wrong with him?
Breck nodded. “She has a decent security system in her country flat. It’s basic but a little more upgraded. Panic room and everything. It’s a good place to hide out until we figure this out.”
Roman handed me the passports. “You’ve got a couple of options there. One is American, which is great because it’s from when you went to boarding school, and you can pull off the accent.” He handed the little portfolios to me, and I stared down at them. Next, he handed me cash.
Wilder rolled his eyes and stepped into the safe and pulled out a bag. It was a cross-body situation that looked sturdy but slightly fashionable. “Here, use this.”
I shoved the passports into it. The money was harder.
Wilder said, “This backpack should do. We’ll pack you a few sets of clothes, but you’re going to have to borrow. You want to travel as light as possible right now.”
Breck tapped away on his laptop. “I’ve already got her on a charter flight to Paris using the name on the passport.”
I glanced around at my brothers. “Oh my God, you guys are insane, but I love you.”
Roman pulled me in for a tight hug, and I almost didn’t know what to do. He never touched people, but slowly my arms wrapped around him. He felt solid and warm, like home. He smelled so familiar, just like Dad always had. I could have nestled there all day. But too soon, he was shrugging back, pushing me away, and erecting the walls again. “We have to get you out of here.”
Wilder nodded. “I’ve got a way out. There’s a tunnel right outside the offices. It’ll lead her down to the back exit. I’ll drive her to the airport myself.”
So this was happening? “I didn’t even get my cake.”
Roman chuckled. “Eat cake in Paris. Right now, your safety and your freedom are more important than anything.”
“You obviously don’t know how important a cake is to me.”
Breck gave me a tight squeeze and picked me up off the floor. “Look, we’ll figure this out. This is just a mini vacation in Paris. How bad could it be?”
His smile was light, but I could see it in his eyes; he was worried.
Roman, gave me another quick squeeze and then stepped back. Wilder put out his hand. “Come on, little sis. Let’s get you in the car. Looks like you’re getting that adventure you’ve always wanted after all.”
Chapter 3
Kannon
How did it come to this?
A client, was a client, was a client, was a client.
I didn’t care what kind of clients we had at Kannon Security. All I cared about was that we had them. And business had been good over the last three years. We’d weathered the rocky storms and growing pains of building a solid security business.
But if I had to rank our clients in a hierarchy of worst to best, my current assignment, Lilith Montague, was the worst kind.
First, she was the daughter of a diplomat. That meant she’d spent most of her life learning how to appear to be one thing while being something else entirely. She’d spent her whole life smiling for the cameras, shaking hands, being the perfect daughter, while behind the scenes, being allowed to get away with murder. Although, I hoped that wasn’t literal in this case.
I loathed diplomats’ kids because they were the ones most likely to thwart the rules. They threw themselves into finding trouble and not bothering to find their way out of it. And despite access to the finest education, they did their best to squander every single opportunity placed in front of them and pull out that dumbass card every chance they got.
And Lilith Montague was no different. If she heard there was a squander-your-life event, she’d be first in line for that shit. She was your typical Kardashian-living, influencer-aspiring, refuse-to-do-anything-with-the-brain-God-gave-her kind of girl. Which was a shame, because I had a great deal of respect for her father.
Drake Montague had given me my first job. Right after I opened Kannon Security, he’d picked our no-name security firm to do a job for him at an event. I’d asked him why he’d chosen us, and he said because he’d been like me once. Unlike most diplomats, he’d served in the military, and he’d honestly wanted to make the world better.
Thanks to his endorsement, we’d gotten bigger and better contracts. I would always be grateful to him. Especially given the shitstorm of my life before I opened Kannon Security.
When Drake Montague called looking for a favor, I didn’t say no.
My other least favorite kind of job was the bodyguard gigs to concerts. The kind of shows that made Burning Man look like a stuffy event. First and foremost, there were drugs everywhere. Too many exits and entrances, and they were always packed to the gills. Not to mention my team basically telegraphed that they were bodyguards. We worked best in casual attire; dressed up, we stood out like sore thumbs. We were the only ones not taking any drugs. It didn’t help that everything was brightly lit with flashing lights suffusing the area. It was easy to miss what you needed to see, and far too easy to see something that wasn’t there at all.
Sparrow tapped into her coms. “Boss, can you check your south exit? Something looks off.”
I frowned at that. “Copy.” I headed that way, holding back a growl.
Sparrow made her way to the women’s restroom. Her sightline was on Lilith at the bar. And my other guys, Max and Aidan, were basically beating the men off of her. Sparrow at least looked undercover. She looked like she could be one of Lilith’s friends. Which certainly helped.
My gaze narrowed, and I frowned when I locked onto what Sparrow had seen at the exit.
“Blue baseball hat, ripped tank, eyes glued on Lilith?”
“Yup, that’s the one. He’s been keeping a little too close from behind as we’ve made our rounds. I keep seeing him on my radar.”
“Copy. I’ll go talk to him.”
Normally, with a job like this, I’d send Sparrow with Olly or Marcus. Nikolai worked better on his own. But because this was Drake’s daughter, the whole team came along for the ride. Fantastic. Not like Drake wasn’t paying us handsomely, but still, a babysitting gig. And all said, with all of us here, we were billing at thousands an hour. As if we had no other active pressing cases.
Easy. Drake gave you a shot when you were about to spiral into the depths of hell. So cut the kid some slack.
I had to remind myself of that. Without Drake’s support, things would have been much, much worse for me. I could put up with his daughter for a night…at a Paris Fashion Week party.