Leah Braemel: Personal Protection

A grin split Kris’s face when he loomed over her. “Sorry, Rosie, but if you want to dish it out, you gotta be able to take it too. Isn’t that what you told me my first day?”

She took the hand he held out to help her up. Once on her feet but before he released her, she forced his thumb toward his wrist and wrenched his arm behind him in a classic takedown maneuver. In an effort to lessen the pain, he twisted as she’d intended and fell to his knees. She placed her knee in his back and forced him flat onto the mat where she’d been moments before.

“Cheater!” he gasped.

“Weren’t you just talking about taking what you dish out?”

“Ah, Kris with his face in the mats, and Rosalinda controlling him. All is right with the world I see,” a voice said from the doorway to the men’s locker room.

Rosie released her grip on Kris’s arm and straightened. She grinned when she saw Chad watching them. “It was like taking candy from a baby. As always.”

Kris stood so fast she’d sworn someone had called attention on deck. “Heya, boss! What’s up?”

“You two hit the showers and then come to Sam’s office. Andy, you too. We’ve got some business to discuss.”

Rosie raced through her shower, muttering curses under her breath as she struggled to tame her wayward hair, hurriedly drying it with her diffuser and using the silicon hair tamer she wished she’d bought stock in. Finally she wrestled it into the bun she found easiest to deal with.

“At least I won’t look like a dandelion,” she grumbled. She stepped into the hall at the same time Andy exited the men’s change room.

He gestured back at the men’s change room with his head. “Skippy’s still making himself look beautiful. You want to wait for him or head over to the Sanctum?”

“He can meet us.”

They’d made it as far as the accounting area when Kris jogged up behind. “Hey, you guys got any idea what this is about? Must be special though if Sam’s in on the meeting, don’t you think?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, Skippy,” Andy said. She could hear the amusement in his voice, especially when he shook his head and muttered, “Newbies!”

Andy reached for the door to the manager’s section then stepped to the side when he saw Sandy heading out.

“Heya, beautiful, what’s cooking?” Kris grabbed Sandy’s hand as she passed. He whirled her into what he obviously thought passed as a waltz.

Andy snorted and headed into the inner sanctum alone. Rosie would have followed but her path was blocked by the dancing duo.

“Thought any more about going out on a date with me, Sandy? I was thinking we’d go dancing, maybe enter us in Dancing with the Stars. We’d be good together, you and me.”

“First of all, I’m not a star and neither are you, so we couldn’t get on that show.” Sandy laughed. “Second, one of these days you’re going to do that to the wrong woman, and you’re going to find yourself in front of a judge. Either being sued or married.”

He grabbed his heart and staggered back. “No! Not the M word!”

“Kris, we’re waiting for you,” Chad’s voice echoed from Sam’s office.

Sandy blushed. “Sorry, Kris. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“It’s not your fault, Sandy,” Rosie said. “Kris’s day isn’t complete unless he causes at least one melodrama.” She gestured to Kris who grinned in return. “Come on, mat-kisser, let’s find out who we’re protecting this time.”

Chad greeted them at the door and told them to take a seat. Andy had made himself comfortable on a loveseat at the far end of Sam’s office, leaving the two visitor’s chairs empty. While Rosie perched on the edge of the farthest leather chair, Kris hesitated. He glanced again at Sam before relaxing enough to sit in the second, though even sitting, he seemed to stay at attention. Chad closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms folded.

Sam stood behind his desk, his back to the room, arms folded across his chest as he stared out the window. He’d abandoned his jacket on his chair. The crisp linen of his shirt stretched taut over his biceps and broad shoulders. And even though it was October, he appeared tanned. He must have had some down time in Miami, Rosie thought. His thick dark brows were longer than the dark hair he kept closely cropped – a change since the summer when he’d shaved his head completely bald. The slight slant of his eyes and high cheekbones made her wonder if there was some mixed heritage a few generations back. Perhaps some Native American? Hawaiian, maybe?

The amusement that had been in his eyes at the fundraiser had been doused and now irritation radiated from him like a lighthouse beacon.

Rosie shared a look with Kris and Andy. Who’d fucked up and how?

There was silence for a minute as Chad waited for Sam to speak. When it became obvious Sam intended on ignoring them, Chad nodded to himself and took a deep breath. “Sam’s been receiving threats so I’m assigning you to be his personal guards.”

He opened a folder from Sam’s desk and handed them each a picture of Hauberk’s owner in a brushed cotton shirt, and blue jeans mingling with several other similarly clad people in an outdoor setting. “It started with this photo the day after Labor Day. More arrived, each a few weeks apart.”

Rosie recognized Rock Creek’s Carter Barron amphitheatre. Which meant any one of several thousand attending the annual Blues Festival could have taken the picture. The next picture was one of Sam jogging on a residential street. A circle had been drawn in red ink over his chest.

Chad handed them more pictures. The first was a high quality photograph that could have been taken by a professional. The next two were grainy. But all had red targets drawn on his chest.

Kris fingered the third one, of Sam exiting the Hauberk building. “From the blue hue of this one and the pixellation, it looks like it was taken from an older cell phone.”

“Or it could be blue because one of the colors of ink in the printer was running low, Skippy,” Andy said.

Rosie glanced at Kris’s before studying the next better quality photo-this one of Sam parking his Harley Road King in front of a large red brick Colonial building-an elite club from the looks of it. Whenever she’d seen him at the office he was in tailored suits, but in the photo he was wearing a leather biker jacket and a pair of leather pants that clung to him like a second skin. If she hadn’t already admired his ass, this picture would have clinched the deal.

Andy exchanged pictures with Rosie, this one of Sam holding open the door as a leggy blonde got out of his Jaguar.

She held it up closer, wishing she had a magnifying glass handy. “I’d say this one was shot through a window. There’s a reflection.”

Sam whirled toward them, his jaw snapping closed, his lips tightening as he glared first at her, then at Chad. “I thought you said-”

He bit off the remainder of his comment and some sort of nonverbal exchange occurred-but about what Rosie couldn’t tell. Somehow she had a feeling it was about her. Though why, she couldn’t guess. Her record at Hauberk was spotless.

“We’ll discuss it later, Sam.” Chad handed them copies of another photo. “This one arrived last night-they broke into his place, disarmed the security and left it on his bed.”

If she hadn’t recognized the setting and his suit, she’d never known it was Sam, considering his face had been digitally removed and replaced with blood, brains and gore.

“Didn’t they set off the silent alarm?” Andy asked.

“Nope, whoever it was knew the code to turn it off. Security tapes show a male entering through the lobby, bold as brass. Had a hood up, and he faced away from the cameras as if he knew they were there.”