In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

If I had said oh to that statement, or anything to punctuate “specifically at night,” I was sure he would have been aghast. As it was, I just nodded, even though that tidbit was a monster of a tell. I was dying to meet Eric Foster, but unfortunately I would never have the opportunity. “It seems that you think a bodyguard would just be an extra person in the way.”

“That’s exactly what I think,” he agreed. “But I don’t want anything to interfere with this business deal for my sister, so I’m prepared to have my life upended.”

“And Astor’s, of course,” I threw in, baiting him, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Oh yes, of course,” he agreed quickly, but it was clearly an afterthought.

“Well,” I said, tired of playing cat and mouse with him, bored with the game, “I will endeavor to protect you until you get on the plane to return to Connecticut.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, relieved, it seemed, that I had dropped the topic of Astor Finnel. He didn’t seem particularly interested in talking about her.

“Now,” I said, taking a breath, “I think it’s time to get everyone some brunch, don’t you?”

“I agree,” Brig replied cheerfully, smiling as he turned to open the door. “I’m utterly starving, myself.”

I had been unhappy about having to come to Vegas, but it was infinitely better than having to protect Brig Stanton at home. Just imagining all the people in his life, in his home, that I would need to talk to and deal with was exhausting. Here, my path was clear; all I had to do was keep track of the man for the next four days, and then put him on a plane for home. I couldn’t imagine a cushier assignment, and I felt a bit bad for whining about it to Jared. This was going to be simple; it was surprising I hadn’t recognized that sooner.

Three

It was always fascinating how many secrets could be ferreted out simply by being observant. I was convinced that most good detective work had more to do with keeping an eye open than any other skill. When I was younger, going to the mall to people-watch had been one of my favorite things to do. While the crew I was with would be shopping or flirting—standard high school pursuits—I was analyzing spacing, how close or far people stood from one another, and of course, touching.

At the moment, just hanging back, letting the entire group walk in front of me, I realized some truths fairly quickly.

Nolan Stanton was madly in love with his brother’s girlfriend. I had no idea how Brig could miss how head over heels Nolan was for Astor. He walked beside her, carried whatever she bought, laughed with her, touched her whenever he had an opening, and was basically Prince Charming in the flesh. He could not have been any more obvious.

Chase was not much better.

It was more than clear, after only a handful of hours, that my first impression was right on the mark. The lawyer would have preferred to celebrate his promotion with Brig, alone. He was doing to Brig what Nolan was doing to Astor. Chase hung on every word that came out of Brig’s mouth, walked beside him, touched him constantly, took every opportunity to bump him, lean into him, laugh at his jokes, and made certain that when it was time to sit, he was the one in the seat beside Brig. The way Nolan and Chase jockeyed for position next to Astor and Brig, respectively, was really something. Conversely, watching Brig and Astor was also quite illuminating.

I had never seen a couple that touched less than the son of the CEO and the philanthropist. They smiled a lot, but that was about the extent of their interaction. Astor walked with Nolan, her arm wrapped around his, while Brig was animated and laughing with his friends. When everyone split up to walk through the shops inside of the Venetian, I shadowed Brig, but Astor and Nolan left, walking off in the opposite direction. Trey and Quentin, two more of Brig’s crew, who were out to rendezvous with some friends of Quentin’s, also peeled away from the rest of us. I kept quiet as I trailed after Brig, hanging back, pretending to browse, so I was always the last one into a store and the first one back out.

At an upscale boutique that sold high-end timepieces and fine jewelry, I stood beside a guy whose name was Aiden, if I recalled correctly, who was texting two different women on his phone—he had invited them both to meet him at the club later—and watching as Brig had Chase try on different watches to see which one looked best. He was springing for whichever one his friend decided on which was, to me, a lavish gift but par for the course for Brig Stanton. It was interesting; we were in a private viewing lounge with a salesman and two security guards.