ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (11 page)

“How much trouble are they in?”
Mak asked Deacon and James thought the grin on her face was adorable.

Deacon chuckled.
“A lot. We need to discuss your security contract. Obviously, there’s an issue here. When we handed over, we gave them specific requirements that we wanted in place. They have done that, but it doesn’t mean that they’re monitoring you properly. At Thomas Security we set up a lot of systems—‘trip codes’ as we call them. Basically, systems or factors that are automatically monitored together and if something changes in the system, it sends a message to our monitoring team and they investigate. For example, your bodyguard who’s taking a nap—his tracker would alert that his pulse rate has dropped significantly, considering what I injected him with, and that would trigger an alert. We’d actually have two bodyguards with you, but even if we didn’t we would’ve tried to call him, and obviously he wouldn’t answer, so we’d check the cameras and find out what’s going on. That should all take seconds, not fifteen minutes.”

“You recommended them,”
Mak said.

“I know, and that’s why I’m testing them. I think given their massive failure tonight, you should terminate the contract and we’ll look after you,”
Deacon said.

“Did you find some resources overnight?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, but her voice had a hint of playfulness.

Deacon ignored the jab.
“Circumstances change every day, Mak.”

“You didn’t answer the question, Deacon.”

“Yes, then, we found some resources overnight,”
Deacon said, grinning.
“The choice is yours, Mak.”

James watched as the two men from Mak’s security firm ran down the hallway toward her office.

Deacon must have heard them approaching because he said,
“This is going to get ugly.”

The door flung open and two men burst in with guns loaded.

“Mercy, mercy,”
Deacon said, holding his hands up in surrender. He turned to face the men.

The two men looked at each other but kept their guns poised.

“What the hell are you playing at, Thomas?”
one of the men said.

“I thought I’d perform a security test. We referred Mak Ashwood to you, provided certain protocols and systems were put in place. You have failed on almost every one of them. What do you have to say about that?”

They didn’t answer.

“Where is Ren?”

“If you’re talking about Mak’s bodyguard,”
Deacon said,
“he’s taking a nap under a cubicle desk, three rows down.”

Their eyes blazed and one of the men gestured to the other to go and check.

“Do you think this is funny, Thomas?”

That’s the wrong question to ask,
James thought. Deacon was passionate about their business and genuinely cared about all of their clients. It wasn’t just an alternative lifestyle to their past, he loved what he did now and James thought that perhaps by protecting other people, Deacon thought he could somehow atone his soul—just a fraction—for Nicole’s death.

Deacon let his true feelings show.
“Funny? No, I don’t think it’s funny at all. You failed to protect her. You gave me fifteen minutes to break into this building and slit her throat, and all I needed was two-and-a-half minutes and I had her in my arms. Do you think that’s funny?”

“I didn’t set the systems up,”
he rebutted.

“I don’t give a fuck who did. At the end of the day, you failed and we will never refer a client to you again. And we will make sure that our contacts know exactly what happened here tonight.”

The boutique security industry was a well-connected group, and James knew he realized what that meant to their future.

The second man came back into Mak’s office.
“He’s alive, but unconscious.”

The man, clearly wearing the pants in this duo, nodded.
“Well, you’ve made your point. I’ll personally ensure she’s safe from here.”

Deacon shook his head and then turned to Mak.
“Write a letter terminating your contract and sign it. He can take it back to his boss.”

“Is that your definition of a choice?”
she questioned, remaining stationary on the edge of her desk.

James bit his lip, amused at Deacon’s slip-up.

Deacon smiled.
“I apologize,”
he said.
“Mak, would you like to stay with these useless guys, or would you like Thomas Security to handle your case from this evening forward?”

She shook her head, and then stood up and moved to the back of her desk. She typed out a letter on her computer, printed and signed it, sealed it in an envelope and handed it to the man in charge.

“Please pass this on. I will also email a copy, just to make sure it gets there,”
she said and it was the first time James had seen her show any bitterness at her lack of protection.

The man took the envelope, looked back at Deacon, and then spoke to his colleague.
“Call the guys. We’re going to need help getting Ren out of here.”

Deacon stood up.
“That’s all for tonight,”
he said, glaring at the men as he closed the door behind them.

“Are they going to sue you for drugging Ren?”
Mak asked.

“They might threaten it, but I’ll make a deal with them,”
Deacon said.

“A deal, huh? What kind of deal?”

“I might tell them I’ll keep quiet about what happened here tonight, if they don’t sue me.”

James smiled, not concerned at all about the potential lawsuit—their boss knew better than to even try such a move.

“I see…How often do you make these kinds of deals?”
Mak asked.

Deacon ignored her question.
“Now, if you want to stay here and keep working, I’ll step outside and resume your bodyguard duties until an arrangement is made. Or, I can take you home. We’re going to need access to your apartment tonight anyway.”

“What do you need to do in my apartment?”
Mak asked.

“Install a new security system,”
Deacon said, leaning against the wall.

Mak appeared to groan.
“Okay, I’ll finish my work at home while that’s being done,”
she said, turning off her computer and tidying her desk. She picked up a bag that looked like it weighed more than she did, and Deacon moved forward to take it from her.

James watched as Deacon escorted Mak out of the building and into his car. James stood and grabbed the black bag by his feet, already prepared in the event tonight unfolded exactly as it had.

He had an install to do.

Mak stole inquisitive peeks at Deacon Thomas as he drove her home. Tonight had been a bouquet of surprises, and she could never have anticipated it turning out the way it had. He’d thrown her for a loop, and then spun her until she was dizzy. Who were the Thomas brothers?

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked, looking across at her.

“Yes, I was just recapping what happened tonight. It’s been a bit of a surprise.”

He turned back to the road, but she could still see his grin. He was definitely pretty, the kind of man who would be on a poster hung in the bedroom of a twelve-year-old girl.

“I know, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s like that with us. Just ask Jayce,” Deacon said with a slight laugh. “We’re not conventional, Mak, and we don’t follow all of the rules. We can’t, and won’t, always justify our actions but I promise you can trust us.”

Mak wondered what went on behind the scenes at Thomas Security, and if she really wanted to know the truth.

“How can I trust you if you can’t tell me certain things?”

“Because our actions will prove that you can trust us and every move we make will have your best intentions at heart,” Deacon said.

“Is this how it is with all of your clients?”

“Yes, all of them, with no exceptions. It drives them crazy sometimes—and it will drive you crazy at some point—but our methods work and our clients know it,” Deacon said.

“How many clients do you have?” Mak asked.

He turned to her with a smile. “Just the right amount, Mak.”

“Why don’t you grow the business further?”

“Because security is a high-risk game and quality control is imperative. We need to be able to tightly oversee all aspects of our business, and we can’t do that if it grows too big.”

“And who is ‘we’? Who runs Thomas Security?”

“James and I, primarily. Of course we have managers, like every other business, but we are the two owners, as such. I know what you’re doing…” Deacon said.

Mak played the innocent card. “And what is that?”

Deacon chuckled. “You’re asking me questions that you know I’m going to evade, but you’re not so much interested in my answers as you are trying to read me, right?”

“I’m just interested in the company that is pledging to protect me,” Mak said, tapping her fingers on her knee.

Deacon pulled into the underground garage and used a remote controller to open it.

“How did you get that?” Mak asked.

“That’s none of your concern,” he said, grinning like a mischievous child. “Don’t get out until I open the door for you.”

Deacon exited the car and a few seconds later the trunk opened. Mak turned to see him lifting the strap of her bag over his shoulder. She picked up her handbag that was sitting by her feet, waiting for him to open her door. Mak peered out the windows, looking for anything sinister, but in her opinion nothing, or no one, looked out of place.

Deacon opened the car door. “Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

Mak noticed he had a bag over each shoulder—one of them she didn’t recognize.

“Are you staying over?” she asked. She meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them.

A broad, lopsided grin formed on his pink lips. “Definitely not,” he said, taking her hand to help her out of the car.

They rode the elevator up to her floor and Mak opened the apartment, turning on the lights.

Deacon stopped, looking at her living room. “Why weren’t packers organized? They should’ve done everything for you.”

Mak moved through the mini skyscraper of cardboard boxes that she was yet to unpack and put her bag down on the dining table. “They were offered to me, but I declined the offer.”

His eyes looked up slightly, like he was thinking something through. “Okay,” he said. “As long as they were offered to you.”

Mak nodded her head. She had declined the offer to have her things moved because she didn’t like people going through her things. She didn’t want someone she barely knew to go through her belongings, let alone pack her lingerie, or the naughty drawer of her bedside table—how embarrassing.

“Where would you like this?” Deacon asked, slipping her case-note bag off his shoulder.

“Oh, thanks, you can just put it here on the table,” Mak said. She moved her hand bag over, making space for the larger bag. Most of her files were electronic, but Mak still liked to handwrite certain notes and print reports. And it was surprising how quickly the weight added up.

He put it down on the table and appeared to take another quick assessment of her apartment. “We’re going to strip the surveillance and put in our own system, and it shouldn’t take longer than an hour. You can get on with your work, or if you’re tired we’ll do your bedroom first so that you can get some rest. We’ll lock up before we leave and there will be security stationed outside all night.”

The apartment door opened and James Thomas walked in.

Their eyes locked just like they had the first time they’d seen each other. This time she wasn’t scared of him, however, but she still didn’t think he was an innocent man.

“Hi, Mak,” he said, shaking her hand. Her skin tingled and she felt her pulse increase as their hands connected.

“I’m sorry about what happened tonight,” James said. “We’ll make sure all involved are dealt with accordingly.”

“Thank you,” Mak said, noticing her voice was throatier than normal.

James’ looked away, almost too quickly, and his eyes traveled over the apartment. “Were you planning to move again?”

“I’ve only unpacked the few boxes of things I need. I’ll do the rest when the trial is over,” Mak said, leaning her hip against the table.

“…Okay,” he said, mirroring his brother’s comment. He looked to Deacon. “Let’s get started.”

James unzipped the bag he had brought in with him, which looked identical to Deacon’s, and pulled out a smaller bag that made a rustling noise as he put it down on the table. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to his brother.

Deacon looked at it for a minute or so, and then looked up at the ceiling. “Good,” he said, not discussing any details.

And neither showed Mak what was on that piece of paper.

“Mak, you can do whatever you need to do. We’ll be as quick as possible,” James said gently—a polite dismissal, of sorts.

“What’s that?” Mak said, eyeballing the paper Deacon passed back to James.

“It’s a security plan,” James said, folding it back up and putting it in his pocket.

“Can I see it?”

“It’s better if you don’t,” James said, not looking at her.

“Why is that?” Mak questioned.

“Because, if you don’t know where the cameras are, and how we are monitoring you, then it’s easier to forget that you’re under surveillance. It’s for your benefit, not ours. It’s the same with all of clients—none of them see the security plan,” James said, pulling what looked like hardware tools from his bag.

“How often will you look at the cameras?” Mak said.

“We, personally, won’t be looking at them at all. The surveillance team will check them from time to time, but they are used more as a double-check if another alert gets triggered. We don’t have someone sitting and watching your every move. At this stage, with this level of security, your life should continue as normal. With the exclusion of your bodyguard, you should be forgetting we exist,” he said, finally raising his eyes to look at her. It was like a warning, a plea.

“I’d still like to see it,” Mak said.

They were at a standoff, and Deacon was the first to speak. “Mak, don’t make this more difficult on yourself than it has to be. People become very uncomfortable in their own home if they think too much about the security. Just leave us to it.”