Quinn sighed, though not impatiently. “There are ethical concerns for us when we are not in full possession of the facts. I will not commit my people to the protection of anyone who might be engaged in illegal or illicit behavior, or whose business is in any way unethical or harmful.”
“I’m not a criminal,” I said.
He looked steadily at me. “Mr. Curran, background checks are easy. I know you’ve never been charged with a crime. What I don’t know, because I haven’t committed any resources to finding out, is whether you’ve done anything criminal.”
“I haven’t.” I was starting to sound like a petulant child to my own ears, so I put the attitude away and replaced it with amiable self-effacement to cover my agitation. “Well, except for the underage drinking in high school. And ditching the nanny for a day in Port-au-Prince. Oh, and when I was, like, seven or eight, I thought it would be cool to light little fires in the mountains outside Kathmandu, but I stamped them out before they could do damage.”
Dallas scowled at that, and I added a mental uptight to the list of her mother-like qualities, which was right up there with judgmental and perfectionistic in the nope category.
“When your life is worth more to you than whatever you stand to earn for your proprietary tech, feel free to come back to us to discuss close protection. In the meantime, Darius is willing to work with you if you’d like his help assessing the vulnerabilities of your home security.” Quinn’s tone was final, and he punctuated it by stepping out of the room. “Dallas will see you to the elevator, Mr. Curran,” he said before he walked away.
I stared after him. “When my life is worth more than what I stand to earn?” I said incredulously. “He has no idea how much is at stake.” Dallas ushered me out of the room before I had a chance to fully process that I’d just been insulted and dismissed. I stopped suddenly and she ran into me, and I had the instant impression of taut muscle and bone on a lean frame. She pulled away and gave me an icy look.
“Is there something else I can help you with, Mr. Curran?”
“Oliver,” I said automatically, my eyes still looking in the direction Quinn had gone.
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Oliver,” I said, my eyes finally meeting hers, and I dug for my nicest-guy-in-the-room default. “Yours is Dallas, right?”
“Correct.”
She started walking toward the elevators again, and I couldn’t think of a reason not to follow. I assumed it wouldn’t get me anywhere to go after Quinn, and Dallas seemed to be the only one who cared that I was still in the building.
“Proprietary tech is the only game in the marketplace right now. If my code leaks, my program turns into the equivalent of generic drugs—worth pennies instead of millions.”
We’d reached the elevators, and she turned to face me. I was surprised that she wasn’t taller, because her vibe was all ferocity and overbearing disapproval. “You didn’t ask for my opinion, but I’m going to give it to you anyway,” she said.
Of course she would. Women like her couldn’t help themselves. They had to be right—all the time—out loud. I sighed, too exhausted to bother to dig up more charm for her.
“Millions are just zeroes and ones in an account,” she continued. “This is your life, and I think the Russian will do a lot worse than try to knife you if he manages to catch you alone.”
I’d just hit the button, but I whipped around to face her. “The Russian? What are you, partners?”
The woman almost rolled her eyes at me, and I was glad to get a rise out of her. It was way more fun than panicking, which was my other option.
“I heard him swear in Russian,” she said in a voice that was back to ice queen inflection.
“You speak Russian,” I scoffed.
“Enough,” she said. The elevator doors opened behind me, and Dallas reached a hand past me to hold them.
“What did he say, then?” I asked. She took a step forward, crowding me back into the elevator.
“Ty moy, suchka.”
“Which means?” I asked, taking a step forward when I realized that she’d managed to make me move with just her body language.
She let go of the elevator doors. “You’re my bitch,” she said, and I had to jump back as the doors closed between us.
3
Dallas
“The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.”
P.G. Wodehouse
* * *
“Tracker Jack?” Shane said as she swerved from her coffee maker trajectory to join me.
I sighed. “Quinn?”
“He asked Dan if he’d ever heard of it, then told him how you’d thwarted an attack on some guy because of a game you were playing.” She grinned. “I didn’t think you were a gamer.”
“I’m not,” I said as I unloaded the leather briefcase I kept at work into the backpack I used to get to and from the office. “It keeps me sharp.”
“For following people, or being followed?”
“Both,” I said simply.
She watched me for a moment. “Why do you do that?” She nodded at the bags. “Why not just take the briefcase to and from the office?”
“I like having my hands free”—I shrugged—“and my mom gave me the briefcase when I got the job here, so I like to keep it nice for work.”
Shane frowned. “Your mom does know you’re a bodyguard, right?”
I chuckled. “She knows I’m a close protection security specialist.”
She waved the title away. “Same thing.”
“You mean she should be worried for me and hate what I do for a living?”
Shane studied me, the frown still tugging at her forehead. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, isn’t that what moms do, when, you know, they care?”
Huh. I filed away that interesting insight about Shane before moving on like she hadn’t said anything revealing. “Do you know how I put myself through college?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know, stripping?” I stared at her, and the slightest smile pulled up the corner of her mouth. “Didn’t everyone?” she continued innocently, her eyes twinkling at the joke. At least I thought it was a joke. With Shane—tall, model-gorgeous, and super-fit—a person couldn’t be too sure.
I shrugged. “My mom probably wishes I’d done that instead of guiding hunting expeditions for bored rich guys.”
She stared at me open-mouthed. “You did what?”
I nodded and continued packing my backpack. “I started guiding when I was sixteen. Worked for a Yukon outfitter every summer through high school and college. I got paid to be outside, exploring nature, tracking game, camping, and riding horses.” And catering to the whims of men who saw me as little more than a hired girl who could set up and run a camp. Worse were the ones who saw me as another trophy to bag in their hunt for the most elusive game.
“Aren’t there bears in the Yukon?” Shane ventured when my words hung in the air.