“Personal choices,” he intoned, his voice dark and deep. The impression I was left with was that, thus far, Pearce’s decisions had been poor ones.
“He needs a babysitter.”
“He needs a guiding hand.”
Since it hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes to figure out that trading on my looks and my body was not something I would be able to do, his offer was the perfect compromise for me—I’d get paid for my time and not give up anything of myself in the process.
When my contract with the Claytons was fulfilled, Pearce now the respectable and responsible adult, I made my exodus from the Golden State and went to Chicago with the intention of becoming a policeman, to start a new life with my degree in criminal justice. I needed to find me, the man under the façade, to see if a childhood of privilege and three years of pretending to be someone I wasn’t could be sloughed off to reveal something, someone, real underneath.
The dream, however, was short-lived. I quit when the price became too great, when breaking the law under the auspices of ensuring that justice was served—something I tried to convince myself I was doing for the most ethical of reasons—meant losing my integrity and self-respect. That was a slippery slope to all-out corruption, and not one I was willing to travel.
Two weeks later, I was contemplating a move to yet another city when I got an email from Jared Colter. Torus Intercession needed people, reliable ones, people with my background and skills, and that was the start of my new life.
I became aware, slowly, that Brig Stanton was looking at me with quite a bit of uncertainty. I’d taken a trip down memory lane, without the benefit of an explanation. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I think California is a way of life more than a state. I don’t have a West Coast sensibility. I’m far too rigid.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded, shrugging, trying to keep the tone of our conversation light. It was a lie, one I told often, along with more casual ones, like how old I was. They popped out, those untruths, and honestly, I wasn’t even sure why. I’d told Brann I was twenty-eight, and Nash that I was thirty, and Locryn that I was thirty-five. It was arbitrary and stupid, but when pressed for any kind of truth…I pivoted. Evasion was my go-to reaction to being pinned down for anything personal. Jared caught me often, and when he called me out, I would sit in front of him and try to come up with an answer he would accept, unsure what the best one would be. I never gave a spontaneous, straightforward response to anything.
“Croy?”
“I think,” I began, covering that my mind had been wandering again, trying to keep the conversation light, “Chicago’s a great place to grab a dog or a slice of deep dish, have a beer and just blend in.” The smile I got in return for that answer was nice.
“I was just pondering on it,” he replied affably. “It’s the one detail that’s not in your file.”
I squinted at him. “You think maybe I’m a flake, flitting from one thing to another without thought or planning?”
“Oh God, no,” he assured me quickly. “I admire your ability to throw caution to the wind and leave a place, a whole network of family and friends.”
“I don’t have a family,” I explained flatly. “I left home at seventeen to go to school, and that was that.”
“You’ve never gone back?”
“There’s no home to go back to. The house was sold, and everyone moved away.”
“That’s horrible.”
And why the hell I’d decided in that moment to spill my guts would remain a mystery. So much for not being altogether truthful and forthcoming. Then I put it together—his questions, his interest—and came up with an answer. “You’re worried about losing your family and friends for some reason, and you’re wondering what it’s like to be in that situation.”
“What?” he said, surprised, almost panicked, standing up and walking a few feet from the bed before pivoting to pin me with his gaze. “No. Why would you even suggest something like that?”
He had secrets he didn’t want to share, and it wasn’t my job to pry—as I’d been reminded so many, many times. Just because I liked knowing things didn’t mean people liked telling them. I certainly didn’t. I took a breath and stopped. “You’re right, I’m sorry. So tell me, are you on board with your father hiring you a bodyguard once you get back home?”
He took a quick breath, and his shoulders dropped as he relaxed. “I’m still not sold on the idea. I mean, I already have a security team that monitors me at home and at the office, and then Eric is at the house with me most of the time, but specifically at night.”