Jackson breathed a mental sigh of relief. Any other time, he’d be eager to jet off to some exotic location and play bodyguard while Vicky toiled away on her latest blockbuster. It was fun; you got to meet famous people behind the scenes and see what they were really like, the food and accommodations were usually top-notch, and the additional security provided by the production company made their jobs a whole lot easier. But he didn’t want to leave town just yet, not until he’d made things right with Essie.
“Are there any specific threats we need to know about?” Jackson asked.
Austin shook his head. “No, but she has a movie coming out soon, some indie project she made with Enrique Lugo last year. Most of the filming was local, so the studio plans to hold the premiere and the after-party somewhere at City Walk.”
Jackson nudged Navarre in the ribs with his elbow. “Hey, maybe you can ask Vicky to invite that chick from theDeathslayermovies. Last I heard, she finally dumped that loser she was dating.”
It was no secret that Navarre thought Sierra Paige, Hollywood’s latest bad girl, was the hottest damn woman to walk the planet. He saw all of her movies the week they came out, and caught them again once they were available on-demand, even the lousy ones like the romantic comedy that got savaged by the critics and royally bombed at the box office.
Navarre huffed out a breath. “Yeah, like I’d have a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like Sierra Paige.”
Jackson shrugged. “I’m pretty sure Ryan thought the same about Vicky, and look how they turned out.”
The door opened again, and Nate Flint strolled in, ready for work in his usual black dress pants and a red polo shirt with the Six Points logo embroidered on the left side of the chest. He peered up from his phone, took one look at his older brother Austin, and shook his head in disgust.
“For fuck’s sake, what’s it going to take to get you to shave that shit off your face?”
Austin didn’t seem fazed by the comment, which wasn’t surprising, considering the amount of grief he’d been getting about his scruff. He’d been letting it grow for so long that he was starting to resemble one of those dudes who lived in a fortified bunker in the wilds of Montana. “I’m still waiting for Nina to say whether she prefers me with or without the beard.”
Nearly every employee at Six Points was waiting to find out as well. It was the subject of at least two office betting pools: one concerning whether she preferred Austin with a beard or clean shaven, and the other involving the date Austin finally shaved, because seriously, that shit looked awful. If he didn’t ditch the beard by the end of the month, Jackson was out fifty bucks.
Nate snorted. “Trust me, dude. She wants you to shave; she just doesn’t want to hurt your fragile little ego by saying it out loud. At the very least, you ought to trim that shit with a weed whacker or something. There ain’t a woman alive who wants to be seen with a guy who looks like he spent the last year on an island with a volleyball as his only companion.”
Austin gave him a one-fingered salute. “She likes it just fine. In fact, there are times she likes it a hell of a lot. Maybe one day, when your body finally accumulates enough testosterone to actually grow a real beard, you’ll figure out what I’m talking about.”
Jackson snorted as Austin headed for the locker rooms.
“She hates that beard,” Nate called out as his brother disappeared behind the door. “She just doesn’t want to be the one to break it to you.”
“I don’t know, man,” Navarre said. “Some women dig scruff.”
Jackson gave him a look. “Says the man who’s got twenty bucks riding on Team Lumberjack.”
Navarre was one of only three people in the entire office who’d bet on the bearded side. Per the rules of the pool, if they didn’t have an answer by the end of the month, and if Austin hadn’t shaved by then, it would be assumed that Nina preferred her husband extra hairy.
“So what are you guys working on today?” Nate asked.
“We’re back on Vicky’s detail.”
“Cool. I’ll probably see you at the house. I’m working on the specs for that party she’s throwing in a few weeks.”
“Any idea how big it’ll be?” In the last year and a half, Jackson had served on Vicky’s personal protection detail for five or six Hollywood premieres. In a nutshell, it was loosely contained pandemonium. There were hordes of press, paparazzi, and fans, all vying for the attention of every big name that happened to walk the red carpet. He’d never worked an indie premiere, which he assumed wouldn’t be as large of an event, though the smaller scope would bring its own security issues to contend with.
“No, not yet. You know celebrities; they never RSVP until the very last minute.” Nate swiped at his phone and tapped one of the icons. “The studio’s covering security at the theater, but Vicky wants us to handle the after-party. As far as I know, there aren’t any discernable threats, but it never hurts to have a strong security presence to keep folks from getting ideas.”
One of the downsides to fame and fortune was unwanted attention from unstable people. As a child actress, Vicky had been terrorized by a stalker who was currently serving life in prison for the murder of her father. It had taken her years to recover from the trauma and return to public life and her acting career. Though she kept a low profile, she still attracted her fair share of over-zealous fans, but Jackson wasn’t aware of any who rose to the level of a restraining order. Hopefully it wouldn’t change anytime soon. The poor woman deserved some peace.
“Navarre and I can help with that. Just let us know what you need.” For the next eight hours, he’d pour all of his energy into keeping Vicky safe. But as soon as his shift was over, his focus would return to Essie, where it belonged. Tenacity was one of his greatest strengths; he’d use it to figure a way out of the crater-sized hole he’d dug for himself.
Chapter 4
Predictability was an assassin’sbest friend. By and large, people were creatures of habit, and even the most security-conscious individuals slipped into regimens and routines. Whether it was a favorite place to eat, a rigid work schedule, or a weekly appointment with a trusted therapist, if you looked closely enough, patterns emerged. And there wasn’t much point in hunting a target if you knew exactly where to find it at a particular point in time.
Of course, every advantage came with its own built-in disadvantage. Knowing where the assassins would likely attempt to kill Petrov gave Essie and Vaughn a prime opportunity to turn the predators into prey.
Essie opened the door to the rooftop access and was greeted with a blast of heat and humidity. Squinting against the late-morning sun, she slid on a pair of sunglasses. The forecast called for clouds to roll in as the day wore on and temperatures climbed even higher. Hopefully things would go according to plan, and she’d be long gone before the weather went from muggy to downright oppressive.
Her athletic shoes crunched against the gray gravel as the heavy metal door swung shut behind her. To her left stood several rows of large air conditioning units, fairly standard for an office building of this size. Solar panels filled the space on the right. A quick sweep of the area confirmed she was alone, and she crossed to the north side of the building.
