“All men?” Fynn didn’t have female friends— well, he was short of friends in general— but Carolyn Vickers ran the adjunct lab at work efficiently, an iron fist in her nitrile glove. No velvet for Dr. Carolyn. Fynn never discounted what a woman could do.
“I started with two women, lost one to another client for her personal staff. Amelia now holds up the female side very competently. My people are all highly trained professionals.”
“Stuck with protecting me.” He wondered how Micah had found Stone Security. Not that Fynn was complaining. If he had to have a bodyguard, Nolan was better than most. If hedidhave to. “What if nothing ever happens again?”
“Best-case scenario, right? You go about your life, we go about our job, no one gets hurt.”
“Do you think that’s what’ll happen?” Fynn really wanted the whole situation to go away.
“I hope so, but…” Nolan came back into the kitchen and faced him, blue eyes shadowed in the under-counter lighting. “That was a near-professional attempt. The stolen truck, the lack of fingerprints or trace evidence, the way they knew your route and boxed you in at a vulnerable spot, and then cut their losses when you slipped past? That’s not one random guy with a grudge because you undercut the avocado market. The cops found that duct tape and sedation drugs in the abandoned truck—” Nolan quickly took the mug from Fynn’s hands and grabbed his elbow as he swayed.
Duct tape and drugs?
“Sorry, I thought you’d have read the police report. Your brother requested a copy. He showed it to me as part of the hiring process, to help me evaluate the threat level.” Nolan gripped Fynn’s arm warmly, and once he’d set down the mug, he steadied Fynn’s shoulders with his other arm. “Really, sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you at three a.m. Come sit down.” He guided Fynn to the couch.
Fynn dropped onto the blanket Nolan had been dozing under. His hands weren’t steady, so he clasped them together in his lap. “I hoped it was all a mistake. Some drunk guy who stole a truck and decided to sideswipe us for fun.” He’d almost convinced himself, although in his dreams, he saw eyes behind a ski mask and knew better.
“Sadly not. However, they might not have the guts to try again. Or whoever hired them might not have the money to pay for a second try.”
“You think someone hired them?”
“That’s my strong suspicion, yes.” Nolan sat beside him.
“Who?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Do you have any ideas?”
“No.” His mind was a total reeling blank cloud of cotton candy, sticky tendrils floating into nothingness. “Fuzzy.”
“Your memory of what happened?”
“Anything about the man in the truck, yes. Black ski-mask, white skin.” Those were the only impressions he’d been left with.
“Is there anyone with a grudge? Someone who thinks they’re entitled to a larger share of RipeBox than they got? Someone who imagines you owe them?”
“You don’t think it’s just some random person trying to get rich?”
“Sure, could be. But they have to pick their target. You were low on security, but you had a professional driver. There are people wealthier than you with not much more security, day to day. So why did they choose you?”
“I don’t know. No one ever does choose me.”Not for school ball games, not for dances although that was probably a blessing, not for conversations at parties, because I’m weird, right? Even Micah didn’t choose me, he’s stuck with me.
“Well, someone did,” Nolan went on, oblivious to Fynn’s thoughts. “There may be an answer to who in figuring out why.”
Fynn shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.Great. Someone finally picked me and it was for duct tape on my mouth and a syringe in my veins.
Nolan slid a hand up Fynn’s back and began rubbing his shoulders. “Sorry. I know this is upsetting—”
Fynn had to laugh because it wasn’tupsetting, it was fucking terrifying if he let himself think about it. Apparently, his laugh didn’t sound cheerful, because Nolan rubbed harder. “I’m fine,” Fynn insisted, pride kicking in. “You’re right. I should think about who might pick me as a money-maker.”
Focusing on that question helped with his shakes, although he wished he’d drunk the last of his coffee. “They had to know the company earned enough to pay back the venture capital and still make a substantial profit.” Micah had boasted about recent margins, though Fynn ignored the details. Their parents had been well off, so they’d never been short, but they now had ridiculous money.
“Right. They’d have to know you have serious bank. The information’s out there but it’s not obvious from the way you live. This is a nice apartment, and you have a new Lexus with a chauffeur, but that doesn’t necessarily scream millions of dollars. There are pricier buildings a few blocks over with Jaguars and Teslas in the garage.”
“They’d have to believe someone would pay a mint to get me back.”
“That might be part of your appeal as a target. Your company president and CEO is also your brother, so he has two huge reasons to want you safe.”
Fynn would’ve laughed again, but who knew? Maybe Micah believed he was showing brotherly love when he nagged and pushed and reminded Fynn how socially inept he was. “Could be.”
