Leah Braemel - Personal Protection

Chad waved an arm toward the door to the outer office. “Then let’s talk about how you’ve got Sandy on edge, how Troy’s about to throttle anyone who walks into his office, and the whole accounting staff is having fits over your last memo. Not to mention that you look like shit, Sam.”

When Sam flipped him off, Chad sighed. “You’re exhausted because you’ve been staying here late every night for the past week. Go home, Sam. Go talk to Rosie. Straighten this mess out before you lose her completely. Before she comes and asks me for a transfer because damn it, Sam, that’s going to happen too fucking soon.”

“This from the man who let his wife slip through his fingers because he was too fuckin’ busy feeling sorry for himself to pay any attention to her.”

Chad stiffened. When he spoke his voice was quiet, but he couldn’t disguise the bitterness filling it. “Who better to give advice? Yes, I fucked up a good thing with Lauren. I was too blinded by everything that happened to see that I was driving her away. That’s why I hate to see you make the same stupid mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake, goddamn it. It’s for her own damned good. I won’t see Rosie hurt.”

Chad slammed his hand flat on the desk. “Goddamn it, Sam. What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re hurting her!”

Because then she’ll continue to be in harms’ way. “You may be my manager in the office, which gives you the right to make suggestions about my business decisions but you sure as hell have no right making judgments on my love life.”

“Someone’s got to get through that thick skull of yours and make you see what you’ve got right in front of you before you crash and burn. You’re Hauberk, Sam. You go down, we all go down with you. Rosie loves you. Or is that what’s scaring you?”

“I’d rather lose her and know she’s alive than have her in the stalker’s cross hairs. Or have you forgotten I’m a target right now?”

“You stupid, pigheaded, shit-for-brains asshole, haven’t you figured it out yet? There is no-”

“Uh, Sam? Chad?” Sandy stuck her head in the door. “You guys want to keep it down-you’re starting to attract a crowd out here.”

Sam shook his head and stared Chad down. “It’s okay, Sandy. We’re done here. Chad’s leaving right now.”

Chad cursed once then stalked to the door. “Fine. You want to play it that way, asshole? You’ve got it.” Chad pushed past Sandy, who stared after him open-mouthed.

“Idiot,” she muttered and shut the door behind her. But Sam couldn’t figure out who she meant. Chad. Or him.

*

Her eyes fuzzy from reading the files for so many hours, Rosie stretched and realized Scott was standing at the door. He looked as tired as she felt. Not surprising considering the nightmares he was still suffering. She doubted he slept more than two hours straight in a night. Not that she’d been sleeping much better. The bed seemed so empty, so cold, without Sam beside her. But she didn’t buy this crap about having her move back into 1202 to keep her safe. He was pissed off that she’d gone to the Rouge behind his back.

“Hey, Rosie. There’s a guy here to see you. Said his name’s Spencer Harper.”

If Spencer was there, surely Thalia was close by. Just what she needed, the Dominatrix herself reaming her out. “Is there anyone else with him?”

Scott shook his head. “Nope, just Harper. You want me to tell him to beat it?”

She glanced at the files stacked in piles on the bed. They’d cleared all the usual suspects weeks before, but the latest spate of threats had them combing the files once again. “No, it’s all right. I needed a break anyway.”

Spencer stood in the hallway, Kris hovering between him and the monitors. Dressed in a pair of tan Dockers with a white shirt covered by a plaid sweater vest, he looked like he’d just gotten off a golf course. The memory of him tied to a bench while she flogged his ass, and how little she’d been wearing when he’d flogged her sent heat flying up her neck and into her face.

“Hi, Spencer, what’s up?”

He tucked a pair of sunglasses into his pocket. “I hope I’m not interrupting you, Miss Ramos, but Thalia would like to see you in her office right away.”

“I’m tied up right now.” The heat that had been dying in her face rebounded. Not the best way to phrase that considering their history. “Besides it doesn’t look like I’m going to be needing any more of Thalia’s training. But thank her-”

“No, it’s not that,” Spencer hurried to say. “I believe she has something about Mr. Watson’s stalker that she wishes to discuss. She was quite emphatic that you come with me.”

She didn’t want to face Thalia for what she was sure would end in a lecture about Sam’s needs, but she couldn’t ignore what might turn out to be the only lead they had. Might as well get it over with. Because she had a feeling that if she didn’t go with Spencer, Thalia would come to her. Besides, she had a thing or two to say to Thalia herself.

“Hey, Scott? I’m going out for a while, okay?” She snagged her purse and walked down the hallway, aware of how Spencer stayed precisely two paces behind her. Remembered the night he’d come to Sam’s apartment, and how wonderful it had been for part of that night. Right before everything went to shit.

A check of his watch showed him Troy wouldn’t be landing in Bogota for another seven hours. Seeking something to keep him busy while he waited, he meandered into the inner sanctum. Chad had stormed out right after their fight, and Sandy had disappeared. With Troy’s departure, the place was as quiet as a mausoleum.

Other than Scott, who had shown up a couple hours ago and was yakking on the phone at one of the spare desks, and Kris who was working out in the gym, the central office area was deserted. He wound his way through the IT area, eyeing the computer geek’s cubicles with their collections of action figures-Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings and a few SpongeBob SquarePants figures. Beyond them was a double set of revolving doors leading to the raised floor computer room. Which reminded him of tomorrow’s meeting with John Lake, the IT manager, to discuss enlarging the raised floor computer area yet again.

In the glass-enclosed area monitoring Hauberk’s client security systems, some of his employees yawned as they finished up the last hour of their night shift. The operators manning the main computer console had shut off the lights to the data centre, preferring to work in the eerie glow of their monitors.

What was he doing here? He had no excuse to keep him in the office. But he had no one waiting for him at home. Not now that Rosie had moved back to the other apartment.

It was better that way. Better that he not get more involved with her than he already was. But she hadn’t understood that.

Hell. He didn’t understand it. He missed Rosie. He missed her smart mouth. He missed watching that blue butterfly flutter when she walked naked to the bathroom. Or when it heaved in tumult while he drove into her from behind. He missed watching her sleep as she lay curled up beside him in bed. He even missed the straightening irons and diffusers and bottles of hair lotion cluttering up his bathroom counter.

But she was safe when she wasn’t around him. And that’s what counted.

“Hey, Sam?” Scott called moments before Sam entered the mantrap to the firing range. “Got a minute?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” So much for working off his mood with his Glock. Damn he missed being out in the field. Being useful. But fate had proven he was better behind a desk than he was at protecting someone’s life.

“I found something I think you should see.”