Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Dropping my phone to the table, I scrub my palms over my face before removing my jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. I don’t know why I torture myself with this same dilemma day in and day out. She doesn’t want to hear from me. She’ll be happier if I stay away. She’s probably forgotten about me completely by now. Best not to upset that. Nothing good will come of it.
A giggle hits me from the side, shocking me from my straying thoughts, and I turn to see Camille with her head tossed back, her mother laughing, too. My past is suddenly forgotten when my present smacks me in the face, making me smile. No woman has made me smile since…
I grab my phone and call Logan. He answers promptly, as normal. “Sharp,” he says as I sit back, casting a quick eye over to Camille. She’s lost in conversation.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
My teeth grind in frustration. “We checked the courier deliveries to Logan Tower the day you told us the threat arrived.” I pause to give him the opportunity to speak, and to listen for any unspoken reaction, like a hitch of breath, anything to tell me I’m onto something. I get nothing, so go on. “There’s no sign of a courier on the afternoon it arrived.”
“There must be,” he claims. “Did you check the CCTV?”
“Yes.”
“The records?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe it was delivered by someone else. Not a courier.”
His claim gives me a moment’s pause. “You were quite clear that it was a courier,” I point out.
“I…assumed. Maybe…I could be wrong.” He trips over his words, only heightening my suspicions.
“I understand.” I brush it off, make his remark sound like it’s of no consequence, when on the inside I’m raging with frustrating curiosity. I get the feeling that if I push this, my services will no longer be required. He’ll get someone else in to protect his daughter. Someone who won’t ask questions. I don’t trust anyone else to do the job. Besides, it’s keeping me busy and distracted from my nightmares. “I’ll call with an update as soon as I have one.” I hang up, thoughtful, until the sweet sound of Camille laughing knocks me from my pondering. She looks happy. Relaxed.
TJ arrives a few minutes later and greets both women affectionately. Camille’s mother, TJ’s stepmother, embraces TJ like he could be her own. The sweet scene makes me see something in Camille’s mother that I never would have expected. She’s stuffy, but she clearly has a fondness for her stepchild. Before TJ settles in his seat, he casts an eye over to me, nodding his hello discreetly. I nod in return and realign my focus on Camille.
* * *
Camille picked her way through a measly salad, hardly touching it. The laughs have been constant from their table. It’s actually been quite a pleasure to see her so happy in the company of her mother and brother. The whole few hours we’ve been here have been uneventful otherwise. No suspicious activity or characters, and no paparazzi.
I settle my bill, anticipating Camille will be wrapping up very soon, and wait for her to stand. I watch her like a hawk, searching for any signs of drunkenness. There’s none, though her mother is a little unstable on her gold heels as she rises from the table, knocking back the last drops of her fizz as she does. TJ catches his stepmum’s elbow to steady her, and Camille links arms with her as they wander from the restaurant, me close behind.
When we make it to the pavement outside, I hold back as they say their good-byes, not liking our distance, trying to be discreet. It’s hard to look casual and unassuming when you’re as tall as me.
A Bentley pulls up and a driver gets out, rounding the car and opening the back door for her mother. “Sweetie pie, it’s been wonderful to see you.” She embraces her daughter and hugs her, before she moves onto TJ. “You take care,” she orders. “Let’s not leave it so long next time.”
TJ laughs. “You’re the one with the hectic social life!”
“Just keeping my finger on the pulse.” She winks and kisses his cheek. “Bye-bye, sweetie pies.” She lowers gracefully into the backseat and the driver shuts the door.
TJ’s flash car pulls up behind and a driver passes him his keys. “Thanks,” he says as he slips him a twenty. “Be good tonight.”
Camille rolls her eyes. “I’m always good. Why don’t you come?”
He laughs, thoroughly amused. “I’ll leave the partying to you.” Leaning in, he kisses her cheek and flicks a look across to me. “Looks like you’re in good hands, but be safe, yeah?”
Be safe? I realize he’s not trying to insult my ability to watch her. What he’s doing is gently reminding her of the shit she’s gotten into before. And judging by the soft, almost pleading expression in TJ’s eyes, he’s reminding me, too. He has nothing to worry about. She’s safe. From everything.