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Broken Hero Page 2
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I wanted to take a paperweight off my desk and whip it at him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d snatch it out of the air without even having to think twice.
With his good looks and sharp style, he was similar to one of the models you’d see on the displays in the windows of a high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue. He sure had the striking, sharp features and clean-shaven face for it. But I’d been on a few dates with male models in my time, and they always ended up being too soft and dainty for my liking.
Garrett, on the other hand, was anything but. When I shook his hand, I could tell right away that it was the grip of a man who’d done things with his hands that I couldn’t imagine.
It was the hand of a killer.
And all of this wrapped up together resulted in a man I was so attracted to that I could hardly stand it. Keeping a poker face in my business was essential, and I was putting it to work. But mentally, I was stripping him out of that exquisitely tailored suit.
“So,” said Garrett, speaking in a low, sensual voice that was almost more like a purr. “You want my protection.”
“That’s right,” I said.
Tension formed in my belly now that we were at the heart of the matter. I was perfectly fine going back and forth with him—talking was my job, after all. But now that we were on the subject of my safety, the whole reason I had him here, I felt my body tense.
And I hated it. I hated not being in control.
Fucking Joey.
“Tell me about it,” he said. “Tell me about why you need me to look after you. And I want all the details, even the ones you don’t think are all that important.”
I took a slow sip from the gray ceramic mug of steaming coffee on my desk, giving myself the time to form my thoughts.
“It’s an ex,” I said.
He nodded, saying nothing and letting me go on.
“And you might be thinking right now that this is some silly relationship nonsense. Maybe even something that’s beneath you. But I can assure you that it’s not.”
“No judgments,” he said. “And I’m a mercenary—no job is beneath me. I’ve done escort work for rich women who just want someone keeping an eye out for them while they go shopping.”
I liked his attitude—professional to the core. Maybe he picked up on the fact that I was uneasy talking about this, but he didn’t show it. Everything about his demeanor was calm and in control.
“Are you familiar with the Novak crime family?”
His golden eyebrow rose ever so slightly.
“I am,” he said. “I’ve had some dealings with them during some of my operations in town. They’re a tough crew, mostly run in human trafficking and drugs. Heard they keep the upper classes of the city in all the South American blow and Eastern European hookers they can handle.”
“Among other things,” I said. “And…” I clenched my hands under my desk and took a slow breath. “And I’m on their bad side.”
He regarded me carefully for several long moments, as if trying to figure out if there was some dimension to me that he’d missed.
Finally, he spoke. “You remember my rules, right?” he said. “No drugs, no hu—”
“I know, I know,” I said, cutting him off. “And it’s not like that.”
“Then you need to explain what it is like,” he said. “This interview’s as much about me seeing if you’re my kind of client as much as it is about you wanting to hire me.”
I worked my jaw and composed myself.
“I’m being evasive,” I said. “And I’m not normally like this. I try to be as straightforward in my dealings as possible, other than when the courtroom requires some verbal finesse. But this subject is unlike anything I’ve ever had to deal with before, so I’m going to have to ask you to have some patience with me.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course,” he said. “Take your time.”
I stood up from my chair and turned around to face the city. The northern half of Manhattan was sprawled out in front of me, the towers of Midtown cutting into the ominous, gray sky and Central Park laying directly ahead in all its perfect, green symmetry.
Looking out onto the city always helped clear my mind. And right now it wasn’t only about trying to tell my story—having to stare at a face like Garrett’s was a distraction I didn’t need.
I turned my head slightly, my hands weaved together behind my back.
“I met Joey back at an event that a client, some rich Upper-East-Sider, threw a while back. It was one of those old-money parties, the kind that were perfect for hustling for clients. Not really my scene, but never a break from networking when you work in this business.
“He was…different. He was charming, handsome, and—I’m not going to lie—a little bit of a bad boy. I hated that I was drawn to him, but I was. When you run in my circles and you’re used to cleaning up the legal messes of stuffed shirts and the stratospherically wealthy, someone who seems a little rough around the edges is a breath of fresh air.”
“But he was more than rough around the edges,” said Garrett. “Those types always are. They’ve got some superficial charm, enough to make you think that they’re interesting. Only a matter of time before they show you their true colors.”
I let a small smirk play on my face. The guy was a good judge of character—had to give him that. It made me wonder what conclusions he’d come to about me.
“Shit,” I said. “Could’ve used you a few months ago when I met the guy.” I went on. “You’re right. Dead-on. He was such a relief from the typical men I’d known. I’m not much of a serious dater—no time for that—but the few guys I’d have drinks with here and there were the types who struggled to find subjects to talk about over drinks that didn’t involve their finance jobs or some apartment in Williamsburg they had their eye on.”
“Then you had a glass-smashing moment,” he said.
I turned and crinkled my brow in confusion. “A what?” I asked.
He let out a soft snort of a laugh.
“Sorry,” he said. “A little personal joke. Back when I was in high school I had a girlfriend who was a total party girl. At first, I thought she was just a social butterfly and loved to have a good time. She hit the bottle hard, but I was too young to know it was a problem. Then one New Year’s Eve she got all sorts of messed up on booze and God knows what else. When the time came to cheers for the new year, I raised my glass for a tap and she, being plastered, smashed her glass right into mine.”
He held up his hand and placed the tip of the index finger of the other hand on a small pink scar that went from the web of his thumb to the middle of his palm. “Ten stitches,” he said.
It made me wonder how many other scars he had on his body. Then I cursed myself for letting my thoughts drift back to that subject.
“Anyway, it was a wake-up call. Those are what I call ‘glass-smashing moments’—those times when someone lets the mask slip and you get a look at who they really are.”
“I had one of those, all right,” I said. Except call it a jaw-smashing moment.”
Garrett’s expression tensed. “Tell me it wasn’t your jaw we’re talking about.”
I could tell that he was getting mad. As cool and calm as he’d been, the subject of me getting hurt was clearly agitating him. It made me wonder if this was typical for his clients. Or if there was something about me.
“No, no,” I said. “Believe me, if a man ever laid his hand on me they’d find him staggering down Forty-Second Street with a gaping wound where his manhood used to be.”
His hard expression softened. I could tell he liked that answer.
“I’d had some suspicions that there was something more to him. He was cagey about his job, his odd hours. And he kept me at a distance from his personal life. In retrospect, it sounds stupid that I let all this fly, but what can I say? I liked the guy.
“One night at a bar, he got up to go to make a phone call. And while he was gone, some finance bro swooped in and tried to pu
t the moves on me. I rebuffed him, but he stuck with it. Then he made a huge mistake—he put his hand on me. Joey came out right at that moment and saw it all.”
“Shit,” said Garrett.
“Shit is right. Criminals like Joey are possessive as hell of their women, and he was no exception. He got the guy off me by just telling him to piss off, and I thought that was the end of it. Nope. He called a cab, and right when it showed up, he told me to take it, that he got called for a quick meeting and that he’d meet me at his place.”
“And how long was the coma he put the guy in?”
I shook my head and snorted. “About a week. They found the guy in the alley behind the bar, his face turned into hamburger and all the fingers on one hand snapped like twigs.”
“The hand he touched you with,” said Garrett.
“You got it,” I said.
“Those mob guys sure have a flair for the dramatic,” he said.
“One way to put it,” I said with a wry curl of my lip. “That’s when I knew I was in over my head. And that’s when I started looking into who this guy really was.”
A beat of silence passed.
“And that’s when my life changed forever.”
Chapter Three
GARRETT
It was hard to explain. This was far from the first time I’d dealt with clients who were in danger. Hell, they were my damn bread and butter. But I’d always managed to keep a professional distance from them all.
Something about Natalie was different. Something about her made me want to protect her with everything I had. Was it just her looks? Sure, she was attractive enough to drive a man insane. But there was something more than that, something I’d never felt before.
I tabled the issue in my mind and let her go on.
“I started poking around,” she said. “And it wasn’t too long before I found out what this mysterious job of his was. He was a high-level boss for the Novak family. Inner circle. Found out that Joey Monroe wasn’t even his name. Josef Masek—Josef with an f—was what was on his birth certificate.”
“And he found out you were looking.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I thought I was done for. I was sure he was going to kill me for what I had learned. He told me that there was one way out of it, though—I had to make him and the rest of the Novak crew my top clients. He liked me, and they were interested in bringing a new lawyer into the mix. They would be my only clients, really. From then on, it would be my job to make sure that he and all his prick criminal friends skated whatever charges they happened to get stuck with, from here to eternity. Or perpetuity.”
“Really?” I asked. “He trusted you with those sorts of things?”
She shrugged. “The man was into me. Maybe even loved me. Think it steered him towards some questionable decisions.” She went on. “No fucking way I took that deal, though,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t work with criminals, and I especially don’t work with criminals that do the things that they did. He told me that they’d keep me flush with cash, make sure I had protection, give me the lifestyle I deserved. But I didn’t give a shit.”
I didn’t press the matter. I’d seen some shit in my day, but for civvies like Natalie, even getting a peek at the darkness that lurked under civilized society would be enough to turn their world upside down. Easy to forget about human nature when you work and live in skyscrapers high above it all. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d learned they’d been up to, so I let it slide.
“And I suppose Joey, or Josef, didn’t take too kindly to you turning down his oh-so-generous offer.”
She let out a snort and shook her head.
“Nope. He flipped his lid. But lucky for me, he’s as persistent as he is vicious. It hasn’t sunk in for him yet that I don’t have a single bit of interest in his offer, and he’s still giving me time to think it over.”
“So, he still thinks you’re considering it?”
“Yep,” she said. “I decided to take advantage of this and I went right to the NYPD. Joey gave me plenty of info on him and his men that he thought would help me in defending them. Stupid move, sure, but like I said, I think the guy really liked me—enough to cause him to make some very stupid decisions. There’s enough dirt there on their shady business dealings to put him and just about every high-up in that family behind bars for a long, long time.”
“And you’re going to work with the cops to take him down.”
“That’s right,” she said. “For months I let that man dote on me, buy me fancy dinners and jewelry and everything. I’m not even that kind of woman—I make my own money and live my own life. But I indulged him, played the part he wanted. Then I come to find out that every dollar he spent on me was blood money.” She shook her head in disgust. “And that’s to say nothing of what else he’d done while he and I were together. No, getting that prick put behind bars is the least I can do.”
Outside, the rain that had been brewing in the clouds above the city began to fall. A silent crackle of lightning cut through the air and rain began to splatter on the windows.
“So, you told the NYPD that you’re willing to work with them. But in the meantime you’re twisting in the wind.”
“That’s right,” she said. “The NYPD doesn’t have a formal witness protection program, and even if they did, I’m not about to leave my life behind and try to start under an alias in Des Moines or wherever they’d stick me.”
“And that’s where me and my crew come into the picture.”
“You got it,” she said.
The confidence and poise that Natalie had exuded before she started talking about Joey came back.
“So,” she said, “you know my story, and you know what’s at stake. If I can help get Joey and the rest of his crew put away, then New York will be that much safer.” She cleared her throat, rolled back her shoulders, and composed herself. “Now,” she said, her hazel eyes locked onto me in that same serious, appraising way they’d been when I’d first entered. “I want to know what I get if I hire you. I’ve spoken with a few other security outfits over the last few days, all with impressive résumés. What makes you different?”
Now it was my turn to sell myself.
“Personal service,” I said. “Very personal.”
It occurred to me right as I spoke the words that what I’d said could have a slight…double meaning. But I didn’t correct myself. And I could’ve been imagining things, but I’d almost sworn that I saw the slightest hint of a blush appear on Natalie’s cheeks. Looked to me like there was a good chance she had the same thing on her mind as I did.
“How personal are we talking?” she asked.
“First of all, you’ll have my entire team dedicated to you. Unlike many of the other firms in New York, we don’t spread our manpower thin across several different clients. Typically, we don’t even interview new clients until we’re wrapping up our last deal. Your timing is good. So, what that means is, you hire us, you get us, and we’ll work for you until you decide that you no longer have need of our services.”
“I like that,” she said approvingly.
“And while my crew is working behind the scenes on intel and long-distance surveillance, you’ll have me by your side at all times.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Is that right?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said. “I’ll be your shadow. You step out of your apartment, and I’ll be right there at your side.”
“Does that mean you’ll be staying with me?”
“It’s not required,” I said. “But it’s certainly recommended. In my experience, no client likes to feel as though they’re living under siege and having a trained professional like myself on hand at all times goes a long way toward making them feel at ease enough to live their life with relative normalcy.”
“Aside from having a hulking bodyguard looming over them.”
“For a client in a position like yours, you either have two options: Bun
ker down in your apartment and wait until the danger is gone, or make sure that someone’s close by to keep an eye on you while you’re out in public. Neither is all that ‘normal,’ sure, but it seems to be a pretty clear choice for most clients.”
“My apartment is pretty roomy,” she said. “I could easily find some space for you.” She quickly corrected herself. “That is, if I choose to hire you.”
“Naturally,” I said.
“So, what you’re offering is that I could still work with clients, come to the office, and even go out for social events.”
“That’s right,” I said. “And you won’t have to worry about any of Joey’s men getting the drop on you.”
She nodded, considering the matter. “I’m not really one for frivolous social things,” she said. “But I do often get asked out by clients to high-society events. It’s how I get my name out there and find new clients. And when I say ‘high society,’ I mean it. Some of the most important men and women in the city are at these events. Is that something you think you can handle?”
It struck me as more than a little funny that she’d think someone like me, a man who’d seen things that would turn the hair white of someone like her, couldn’t handle a fancy party.
“I’m sure it is,” I said. “Plenty of my clients have asked me to do similar things.”
“It’d mean that you’d have to put on a nice suit and not snap anyone’s neck.” She curled her mouth slightly, letting me know she was joking just a bit.
“Of course,” I said. “Blending in is one of my specialties.”
“Good,” she said.
She looked me up and down once again as I sat. “Get up, please,” she said. “I want to get a good look at you.”
I stood up like she asked.
“Come here.”
She gestured for me to come behind her desk. I did, and seconds later I was standing in front of her. I was close, close enough to smell the soft, intoxicating scent of her perfume and to see all the speckles of greens and browns in her gorgeous eyes.