Regan Black - Safe In His Sight

She gave a quick nod, her hands closing around the water glass, but she didn’t drink.

He continued to work the crowd, keeping an eye on her, noting the way she repeatedly peered over her shoulder and took careful stock of the people ebbing and flowing around her. He interrupted his service rhythm just long enough to send Grant a text message.

Shortly after Grant exited the stage to cheers and applause, Mitch’s cell phone hummed.

“Alexander’s waiting for you,” he said to the redhead.

Her lips compressed to a thin, stern line, she slid off the stool and joined him at the end of the bar. He led her to Grant’s office and stepped aside for her to enter. Intending to give them privacy, he didn’t follow.

“Join us,” Grant said, waving him inside.

With a nod, Mitch entered the office, closed the door and leaned back against it.

His boss extended a hand to the woman for a brisk handshake. “Grant Sullivan. You’ve met my bartender, Mitch Galway.”

“Julia Cooper.” She slid a wary glance at Mitch but didn’t shake his hand. “Yes.”

“Have a seat, please.” Grant’s chair creaked as he landed in it. The man was built like a boxer, stocky and solid, yet light on his feet with an energy that frequently outlasted his younger employees. “How did you hear about Alexander, Miss Cooper?”

“A woman I work out with had a problem a few months ago. You helped her.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Grant maintained a friendly but cautious reserve. With his salt-and-pepper hair and kind brown eyes, he had a way of putting people as ease. “What sort of trouble are you having?” he queried, his voice full of that patience Mitch admired.

Julia reached into her purse and swiped her cell phone screen before handing it to Grant. “A man sent me threatening text messages during my lunch break and the situation quickly escalated. He followed me back to the law firm where I work. Those pictures arrived in my personal email account shortly after I got back to my desk.”

“Quick worker. I’d guess you’re probably not his first.” Grant looked up, his gaze sharp on the potential client. “You’re a lawyer?”

She nodded. “Everything related to my problem is in that file.”

A lawyer with an impatient stalker, thought Mitch. An impatient stalker seemed like an oxymoron, but he wasn’t the expert.

“You just noticed him today?” Grant peered intently at her phone, swiping through whatever information she’d gathered.

“Yes.” She paused while a quiver twitched across her shoulders. “The pictures were taken over the past few days. That’s why I’m here.”

“I see.” Grant continued his study. “Have you spoken to the police?”

“I don’t think the police can help me in time. They’d have to catch him stalking me and I have a feeling that won’t be easy. Average height, average build, no stand-out features.” She sighed. “And it could take months—if ever—for the FBI to figure out who hacked my credit card and bank account,” she said. “On top of that, based on the timing and the wording of those texts, I have to assume he’s fixated on me because of a criminal case I’m working. He could jeopardize my participation in the case, not to mention my career.”

Grant’s mouth flexed into a frown. “The car-theft ring?”

“Yes.”

Mitch stifled an admiring whistle. It was the biggest case in the local news. Every branch of law enforcement had been trying to bust the operation, but witnesses and informants regularly wound up dead. The FBI had snatched one of the key players and managed to keep him alive—so far—and he’d lawyered up with the best defense firm in the area.

Grant scowled at her, his eyes narrowed. “You’re with Marburg?”

“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mitch before addressing Grant again. “Will that be a problem?”

“No.”

The answer made Grant a better man than Mitch. In his boss’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to help anyone associated with Marburg. Their legal team had represented the bastard who’d shot and wounded Grant, ending his career with the Philly police department.

“Mitch will help you out,” Grant said. “He’ll be a buffer between you and the stalker until we can make an ID. He can investigate who might want to target you.”

The announcement startled Mitch. Stalkers and investigations sounded like a problem better suited to one of the cops moonlighting at the Escape.

“Buffer? Is that code for bodyguard?” Julia asked. “The partners will know something’s up if he’s tagging along behind me at the office.”

“Tell them he’s your boyfriend,” Grant suggested.

“That would be worse. No offense,” she clarified, eyeing Mitch. “A new associate with a personal life is frowned upon.”

Mitch shrugged a shoulder, holding his ground and taking her measure as she took his. She didn’t strike him as the type to scare easy. Not with the deep red hair and sheer defiance in her stormy sea green eyes. He couldn’t wait to see what the stalker had done to drive her here. Not that it mattered beyond getting the guy off her. When Grant handed out assignments, it was best not to argue. “Is there a different excuse you’d rather use?”

“No,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“I won’t create any trouble for you at work,” Mitch assured her. “I’ll follow your lead and won’t even enter the building unless I’m following your stalker.” He understood the value of privacy and discretion in the workplace.

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “All right. I’ll be safe enough at the office and at home. I have a security system in my apartment.”

“If you want our help, you’ll accept that he’ll be with you around the clock,” Grant corrected. “At least until we identify the man and his motives.”

“I’m not comfortable with that.” Her shoulders locked up again. “Surely, Mr. Galway—”

“Mitch.”

“—has better things to do than tail me.” She glared at his interruption.

“If you’re sure you can handle this, why did you ask for my help?” Grant voiced the question even as Mitch thought it.

“I... That is...” She stopped and cleared her throat, those tempestuous eyes skimming over him from head to toe once more before darting back to Grant. “I do need the buffer,” she admitted, reluctance dripping from every syllable. “Twenty-four/seven is more than I expected.”

“Good!” Grant beamed. “We aim to exceed expectations in every aspect of our operation.” He stood, returned her cell phone and brought the meeting to an end. “Send me a copy of that file, Miss Cooper. I added my contact information to your phone. Mitch, I’ll cover the rest of your shift at the bar. You take good care of our new client.”

“Of course.” Mitch opened the door, tipping his head for her to go first. The woman wasn’t happy, but she’d stopped protesting. His curiosity about her and the situation revved into high gear and he found a new appreciation for the free time created by his administrative leave.

Maybe this unexpected career detour would prove a little more interesting than he’d thought.

Chapter 2

Knowing it was the smart choice, her only choice, to accept help, Julia wondered why it felt like such an irrevocable mistake. When her friend had enlisted the Escape Club’s help, she hadn’t mentioned dealing with anyone as tall and imposing and...virile as Mitch.

Virile. Yes, that was the best word to describe him as he stood silently looming over her in the hallway between the raucous club and the office. His brown eyes were intense and curious. He kept his thick blond hair short and burnished gold whiskers shaded his jaw. His bright blue uniform polo shirt with the club logo embroidered on the chest hugged his defined biceps and trim torso that narrowed to trim hips and long legs. She had her doubts that any fat cells would dare to linger on his fit frame.