ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (15 page)

“How are you feeling?” James asked.

“Good,” Mak said, pushing herself upright. He steadied her, and once he seemed confident she wasn’t going to faint, he let her go, and began packing everything back into his bag.

“Well, this has been a fun Saturday night for you,” Mak joked.

“Actually, this has been a pretty good Saturday night,” he said.

“Why? Because you like inflicting pain on others?”

His chest shook as he laughed. “Sometimes, Mak, sometimes. But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” She was back at her prime, ready to interrogate him.

“I meant,” he said, zipping up his bag, “exactly what I said. My life is not very fun, Mak. On a Saturday night I’m usually either working, or I’m asleep. I live a lifestyle that is not conducive to a social life.”

“You must have some social life,” Mak said.

“No, I really don’t. I’m always on stand-by for my company, even when I’m not technically working. So that means no vacations, no nights out on the town, no parties at friend’s houses.”

“You went to Zahra and Jayce’s engagement party,” Mak said, ignoring the throbbing pain that had started up in her side.

“I went to say hello, and because my company was overseeing the security, and I wanted to check in. I wasn’t drinking, and I didn’t stay long. What you saw was the extent of my social life…Not very exciting, is it?” he said, relaxing back into the chair.

“No, not really,” Mak said, turning his words over, strategizing how to continue to press him on this matter.

“When do you see your family, then?”

“That’s a very difficult task and I haven’t seen them for a long time,” James said. “I don’t have a girlfriend, either, if that was going to be your next question. Neither Deacon nor I do…It’s best to avoid relationships, given our field of work.”

Hmm
, Mak thought. It was good to know he didn’t have a girlfriend but simultaneously he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want one, either. As they sat across from each other, Mak thought they were both playing the same game—trying to read each other’s thoughts.

“Do all your employees adopt this mentality, or is it just you and your brother?”

“Cami is of the same opinion. The others have different roles in the company, so they can do as they please,” James said.

“Is Cami a partner at Thomas Security?”

“She’s a partner, of sorts.”

Mak rolled her eyes. “I like her,” she said.

“Good,” James said. “If you didn’t get along it would be a bit of a problem, considering how much time you’re going to spend together.”

He seemed in a talkative mood, and in no hurry to leave, so she pressed on. “Are you ever anyone’s bodyguard?” Mak asked.

“Sometimes when we take on a new client I might act as a bodyguard in the interim, but it’s better if I’m in the office planning and overseeing the security strategies. I can’t do that if I’m with a client all day.”

“What is your background?”

“Nice try. I can’t tell you that, Mak. It’s classified.”

“Classified is a very vague term—it could mean anything.”

“Take it to mean whatever you want it to mean.” He crossed his arms over his chest—the conversation was apparently over.

Mak crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring his closed-off body language.

He smirked. They were at a stalemate, and the air crackled between them.

James didn’t back down, and he seemed to enjoy it—Mak wasn’t the only one who liked a challenge.

“Is Deacon’s background also classified?”

He shook his head slowly. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

“And Cami’s?”

“Ask her tomorrow,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me anything else?”

“No. I’ve said far too much already.” His mood seemed to change as he said the words and the playfulness dropped out of his eyes like a falling star. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I need to check if your tracker is working before I leave,” he said, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Samuel…All good? …Okay, thanks. I’ll see you soon,” he said and then hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“It’s working perfectly,” he said to Mak. “I should go.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. She wondered how much Thomas Security spent on equipment—it would have to be something astronomical.

Mak walked him to the door.

“Good night, Mak,” he said as he left, closing the door behind him.

He didn’t pause, he didn’t linger, but she didn’t miss the deepness of his voice.

His feet bounced off the road, expending the energy in his body. The streets of New York were quieter this morning and he was grateful for the solitude as he ran over the Brooklyn Bridge.

All night, and it had been a long night, he’d thought of her. The tracker was probably unnecessary at this stage; even Samuel, who erred on the cautious side, questioned it. But they didn’t know what they were dealing with, and until they did, and could aptly create a suitable security plan for her, James wanted to take every precaution possible.

But Deacon was going to have a fit when he woke up. A massive, verbal-inducing fit. Deacon could’ve inserted the tracker, but James had done five times as many insertions as he had, and he wanted her to have the best. He had also wanted to be alone with her. He had wanted a few minutes to talk to her, and to try and understand his feelings for her. This was new territory for him and he was struggling with it. Paris had awoken a sense of longing that he’d never known before. It wasn’t that he wanted a family, but in that moment, when he’d tried to save Ashley, he’d seen a glimpse of what life could be like with a partner—with someone to love. And to be loved in return.

James closed his eyes for a moment as he continued to run. He was torturing himself, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

He’d taken his time with the insertion. He didn’t want to make a mistake, but he’d also been in no hurry to get the job done. It was a battle not to be distracted by the reaction he felt to touching her. He enjoyed being with her, he enjoyed talking to her, and they were so compatible. And he was sure now that the attraction was mutual. But, reality had come crashing back down when she reminded him of the one thing he wanted to forget: his past.

James slowed to a walk and then took a break, leaning against the bridge railing, looking down to the water below.

He’d also spent a lot of last night thinking about the events that led up to Nicole’s death and where things went so wrong—what had ultimately led to her and Deacon being captured. James knew they could avoid making the same mistakes now—they were better equipped with more experience. They had become very good at protecting people, very good. Not to mention James had a different skillset than Deacon. But that still didn’t guarantee James could protect Mak. There were factors he couldn’t control, and there was a lot more risk associated with his past. And while Thomas Security never took risks with their clients, James couldn’t say the same thing for himself personally. He did take occasional risks—they were measured risks, but risks nonetheless. And a risk could always land someone in the clutches of harm—especially a girlfriend.

James looked at his watch: it was seven in the morning. He wanted to speak to her. He did legitimately need to call her—to confirm her wound wasn’t bleeding—but that was a call his brother could make. He dialed her number anyway and it rang seven times before she picked up.

“Hey,” she said with a sweet, sleepy voice.

She didn’t say anything else and he knew she was barely awake—if she was, she probably wouldn’t have answered with such a wanton voice.

And that presented the second problem. Even if he could protect her, there was an aspect he couldn’t control. Could she fall in love with a man with a secret past, a past she knew nothing about? And if by some miracle she did, could she still love him if one day he told her the truth? Or would she come to hate him?

“James?” Mak said, sounding almost alarmed now. There wasn’t a trace of huskiness left in her voice.

“Hi. Sorry, I got distracted. I woke you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, actually, you did. I hope it was for a good reason,” she said with a tone of humor. She sounded more like herself this morning.

“It’s not,
actually
.” He found himself smiling—something he’d done more of with her in the past week than he’d done in the past ten years. “I just wanted to check on your insertion wound. Have a look at it, is it bleeding?”

Sometimes the wounds did leak a little, but he doubted hers would: her blood had clotted fast. And he hadn’t been lying about her pain threshold. It was high, and that was good if she were ever kidnapped—she’d be able to hold out longer and give him more time to get to her. It was a horrible thought, but it was a thought that pleased him.

He heard a ruffling noise, which he assumed were her sheets.

“The bandage looks fine. Should I take it off and look underneath?”

“You can leave it on for a little while longer, but take it off this afternoon. If it’s not bleeding through the bandage, though, I’m not concerned,” James said.

“Okay,” Mak replied. “Why are you up so early? Don’t you know Sundays are for sleeping in?”

James chuckled. He didn’t sleep in, not even on Sundays. He would like to sleep in, though—if he were in her bed. “No. I’m running. Well, I was running. I just took a quick break and thought I’d check in. So if you’re not bleeding to death, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

She scoffed. “I’m wide awake now, so sleep is probably out of the question. I might as well call my sister and wake her up for an early brunch. What are you doing today?”

“Working,” James said. He was always working. “Mak…If you ever need anything, call me first, on this number, okay?”

“Sure,” she said, sounding taken aback, which was a fair reaction but he wanted her to know she could call him, if she needed to, or wanted to—any time of the day or night.

“Have a good day, Mak,” he said.

“I will. You, too. Bye.”

He zipped his phone back into his shorts’ pocket and began the run home. He’d only taken a few measly steps before his phone rang:
Deacon
.

“Hello,” James said politely. He wasn’t prepared to get into a heated discussion over the phone.

“Hi. We’ve got breakfast waiting for you in Samuel’s office,” Deacon said. It was his polite way of calling a family meeting.

“I’m on the bridge, so I’ll be there soon,” James said, beginning the run home for the second time.

James arrived sweaty and hungry. He didn’t bother to shower, but went straight up to Samuel’s office.
Best to get this over with,
James thought.

When he walked into Samuel’s office, their little family was gathered around a spread of baked goods and coffees. They didn’t do brunch, but he supposed this was their version of it. James picked up a croissant, indulging in the high-calorie delight. He washed it down with a bottle of water, and then his coffee. And then he was ready to talk.

“I could’ve inserted the tracker,” Deacon said with an edge of hostility.

“I know that, but I wanted to do it,” James said. “Look, I know you’re concerned, and I know that this is more about Nicole than it is about Mak, but I didn’t go there last night to hit on her. I have more experience inserting the trackers, and you know it, and I wanted to talk to her…”

“Talk to her about what?” Deacon asked.

“To get to know her a little better.”

“If you’re not planning to pursue her, why do you want to get to know her? You don’t do that with other clients, do you?” Deacon raised one eyebrow. “I know what you’re thinking…You’re trying to figure out if there’s some way you can make this happen. Let me tell you, there isn’t. And if memories of Nicole’s mutilated body aren’t enough to deter you, then I don’t know what would be. So have it your way, pursue her, but just remember that if her blood ends up on your hands, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself and you will experience a kind of heartache you never thought possible.”

James didn’t respond, because some part of him still thought there was a good chance they could protect her. He’d protected presidents in war zones, he’d transported and protected high-profile prisoners, and he’d protected the cartel and gang members with more enemies than he had. And they’d protected all of their clients without a death incident—excluding Kyoji Tohmatsu. But there was no guarantee, and that was the problem.

“How did she go with the tracker?” Cami asked.

“Good,” James said proudly. “Better than you.”

He ducked in anticipation, just missing the sachet of sugar that came hurtling at him.

“Liar! I only swore once!”

James wiggled his eyebrows. “Once too many.”

“That little shit,” Cami said.

“You want to know something really funny?” James said to Deacon. “I’d just finished the ultrasound so I told her to watch the television so that she didn’t see the needle. Anyway, I couldn’t believe it—a bulletin came on showing our car chase the night before. She asked me if I’d seen the footage, and then in the most disapproving tone, she said ‘
maniacs’
.”

Deacon cracked the faintest hint of a smile.

Cami asked, “What did you say to her?”

James scoffed. “Nothing. I jabbed the needle in and she forgot all about the car chase.”

Deacon’s smile grew a little more and James knew that in a few hours he’d laugh at that comment.

James took a fruit salad from the table—he was not nearly done with breakfast.

“Samuel, what ended up happening with the police about that car chase?” James asked.

Samuel took a tiny sip of his coffee. He always drank it like that, and James thought it must get cold before he got to the bottom of the cup. “It’s been handled. That little experience cost you quite a bit of dough, though, not to mention Deacon’s car.”

The dough was in bribe money—hush money—and Deacon’s car needed major repairs. “That’s unfortunate,” James said, but he didn’t regret it. He would have preferred Adam alive, though—at least then he could’ve extracted some information.