Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

“Well,” I told them as they stood around me, “we’re going to do eight-hour shifts from now on, and you guys can decide who does which, and what days. You just need to email me a schedule so I know who’s supposed to be here, starting tomorrow.”

Lots of nodding.

“I need you all here right now to supervise the cleanup, and I need the police called so we can turn over whatever drugs are in the house. After that’s done, you guys are free to go until tomorrow morning at six, when I need someone here.”

Everything was straightforward. I made sure everyone knew how to get ahold of me, I got their full names, cell phone and social security numbers, and then let them get to work. I put Brent in charge of finding a company to install a new front gate, and then called Owen after I saw the sad state of the security system they were using. Only four of the nine cameras were operational, and the fact that they were connected to a single monitor with tiny screens in black-and-white, and that the recording device was a VHS player, had him so quiet on the other end that I had to keep checking that he was still there. Eventually he blurted out words, letting me know the depth of his horror and revulsion. I was told to sit tight and he’d have a company out to me within the hour. The only thing that kept him in Chicago instead of flying there himself was that Jared needed him on another surveillance job for Shaw.

“Don’t worry, Loc,” he said softly. “The people I’m sending are the best.”

I found myself surprised that he cared.

The following morning I got up early, as usual, and when Isaias, or Isai as he told me to call him, got there at six, I relinquished my place in the chair beside Nick’s bed and went for my normal five-mile run. It was both relaxing and grounding, which I found I needed. After I took a shower, I relieved Isai, checked on Nick, saw that he was still sawing logs, and arrived in the kitchen at eight to see what there was to eat. Finding very little, I called Brent to have him stop at Starbucks and McDonald’s on the way in.

I had spent last night, as I sat in the chair watching over Nick, emailing everyone on staff who I was laying off, including who to call to get their severance checks. I told them not to worry about returning keys or fobs for the gate, as the hardware was all being changed out. None of them would be able to get back on the property.

“Good morning,” I greeted Brent when he came into the house, Isai having held open the door for him. “Thank you for going on the food run.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, unpacking the food and removing the coffees from the drink tray before suddenly stopping and staring at me.

“Brent?” I asked as I took the lid off my venti cup to pour in some of the cream he’d brought. It was thoughtful since I hadn’t seen any in the refrigerator.

“Sorry, I—there are just lots of people calling me this morning. Is it true that you fired almost everyone?”

“Yeah,” I told him, sitting down in the breakfast nook as Isai came in and announced Marisol Romero, who I stood back up for, waiting as she crossed the floor, offering her my hand when she reached me. She had a backpack and was carrying a wooden box with leather handles that I assumed contained all her various utensils.

“Where shall I put my things, sir?”

“Please, call me Loc.” She nodded and took in the space, openly admiring the modern Tuscan design and every high-end appliance she could possibly need. “I had a keyless entry installed on the butler’s pantry, so all your prep items can be stored in there, as well as your knives and whatever else. There’s also refrigerated drawers in there and a small freezer, as requested.”

“Excellent,” she said, smiling at me as I passed her a credit card that Rosalie had overnighted to the house for her use. “Is there a budget?”

“No,” I told her. “I want there to be enough to feed him really well. I think he needs to put on at least thirty pounds, so lots of protein, greens…you know the drill.”

“I certainly do.”

“And I’ll be here, and a bodyguard, and Mr. Donovan,” I said, introducing Brent to Nick’s new personal chef. “So three men continually in residence, as well as yourself and the housekeeper during the day. If you’ll coordinate with her for dinner service, that’ll be great.”

She shook her head. “I insist on dinner,” she explained. “I’ll do that and lunch, as I hope that you will all have had breakfast before I arrive at ten every morning.” Her right eyebrow lifted, and I got a pointed look that told me I had better make sure that happened. “I’ll prep breakfast when I do dinner every night and leave instructions for the housekeeper.”