Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Sadie and her goddamn rule.
I go over the night in my head as I walk up the driveway. I have the route to the museum memorized, both to and from. That’s probably overkill on a job like this, but I needed something to keep myself busy today.
The Thortons’ house is absolutely enormous and looms over me as I approach. It’s like walking up to Wayne Manor. I’m just about to place my foot on the first step when the front door opens and Mr. Thorton steps out in a full black suit.
Seconds later, Mrs. Thorton emerges, wearing a white gown that looks like it was made specifically for her. And it probably was. And it probably cost more than one of my house payments.
“Oh, Jake!” Mr. Thorton says with a smile when he sees me. “Good evening! Is everything all set?”
He has no idea I’m breaking our standard protocol by being up this close to the house. He just thinks I’m up here to escort him and his wife to the car.
“Everything’s all set, sir.” I smile.
“Sir?” Mrs. Thorton asks, looking at her husband. Mr. Thorton quickly shakes his head.
“Please, call me Paul.”
“And call me Rachel,” Mrs. Thorton adds, smiling as she takes Paul’s arm. They both walk quickly to take my side as I lead them to the car we have waiting for them.
“Okay, Paul,” I say slowly. “Rachel.”
This is quite abnormal for a job like this. Usually, these rich couples who hire out the protection services of my firm are snobby, arrogant, and never introduce themselves or ask to be called by their first names. On top of that, they generally end up walking in front of us or tell us to stay out of sight, which makes our job of protecting them a lot harder. Paul and Rachel seem quite friendly.
Ryan and Logan are waiting at the car, the doors already open for our VIPs.
“And you guys are?” Paul asks them nicely.
My guys look surprised but introduce themselves just the same. Paul and Rachel slide into the car and then motion to me.
“You ride with us, right?” Paul asks me.
I glance at Ryan. “Well, Ryan was going to ride with you, and Logan and I were going to ride in the follow car–”
Paul shakes his head. “We’d like you to ride with us, if that’s all right.”
“Me?” My guys look as confused as I feel.
“I know you probably have a whole plan on how you do this,” Paul continues. “But if you riding with us doesn’t screw that up…?”
Ryan looks at me and shrugs. Logan does the same.
“No, it doesn’t screw things up,” I reply. “But when we get to the museum–”
“Your things, your way,” Paul says emphatically. “No problem, boss.”
He slides over, making room for me to take a seat in the car across from him and beside his wife.
What’s going on right now? What’s this guy’s angle? All I know as I slide in and close the door is that this is shaping up to be one strange night.
40
Jake
As it turns out, Paul and Rachel end up being two of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. They met in college at Princeton where Paul was majoring in finance and Rachel was majoring in art history. They started dating, fell in love, and have been together ever since.
Paul went on to work on Wall Street, and with the help of a few familial connections, made millions and millions of dollars. Rachel went into art curation and is responsible for putting together tonight’s exhibit.
The artist on display is someone she discovered completely on her own and helped bring from relative obscurity to global fame in less than a couple of years.
As far as I can tell, they’re both good people.
I’ve met a lot of rich assholes, and they don’t show any of the signs that those people usually show. In fact, I’d feel comfortable having Paul and Rachel over to my house for dinner and wouldn’t even feel ashamed of the square footage.
“So you built this security firm up from nothing by yourself, Jake?” Paul asks me.
“That’s right.” I nod. I notice his eyes dart approvingly to his wife, who seems to also approve of this answer. She’s smiling to herself but says nothing. “I needed something to do after leaving the service, and I didn’t want to be a contractor like everybody else, so–”
“Ah, you were in the service.” Paul nods. “That makes sense. Where’d you serve? See any action?”
“I did,” I reply. “The Middle East. Nothing too major. It’s died down since 9/11, but there’s still things happening.”
Paul nods again, and his eyes dart to his wife again, who seems to be smiling even more. If I wasn’t already on a job, I’d feel like I was on a job interview. Or a date if she wasn’t already married.