Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security 8)

I groan as I plop down into the recliner in my living room. I’m normally not home very often, but as the guys have started pairing off, the appeal of staying at work nearly twenty-four seven has dwindled. Since Kit had something else to do, and Brooks disappeared midday and didn’t return, there was no point in me sitting at the office all alone.

I’m lifting a forkful of whole wheat pasta to my lips when the chaos begins.

My condo used to be damn near silent, but lately the man next door has been making enough noise to wake the dead. Lazy evenings at home have turned into more than a little irritating.

I take a deep breath before shoveling the food into my mouth, hoping on the off chance this evening would be different.

That hope flies out the window two bites later when a god-awful shrieking echoes around me.

“What the hell,” I mutter.

Standing from the recliner, I place the plate of food on the coffee table before making my way to the door. Like a weirdo, I press my eye to the peephole to look at the condo across the hall. I don’t even share a wall with the guy that lives over there, but it sounds like whatever is going on is happening right in the middle of my own damn living room.

The door doesn’t open, and after a few minutes, silence fills the room. I’d swear the man is breeding monkeys with the noise they make every evening.

Kendall isn’t the only reason I head to the gym so early and workout for such a long time. The mornings are just as rambunctious and noisy.

I settle back in to finish my dinner, but it doesn’t take long for the noise to start back up.

I’m an easy-going guy. Normally, I wouldn’t pick up my phone and call Deacon, but this place is my sanctuary, and I can’t take much more.

“I can’t do anything about it,” Deacon says after I explain what’s going on.

“But you own the damn building.”

He chuckles. “I don’t own the building, Finn. I own ten condos in the building.”

I frown. I was certain my boss owned this entire building. “But it’s called Blackwood Estates. Your last name is Black.”

“Mere coincidence.” I hear his son start to cry in the background. “I have to go. I’ll text you the information to the guy who owns that unit.”

He hangs up, and it’s another thirty minutes before that information pings on my damn phone. I can’t really get mad at the man for meeting his son’s needs before catering to mine, but in the meantime, I had to listen to screaming and the sound of things bouncing off the walls.

I cringe as I dial the number, wondering if I’m going to reach the man who lives there. If Deacon doesn’t own all the condos, then there’s a good chance other people own individual units.

I won’t get anywhere if that’s the case.

Suddenly, having this condo doesn’t seem like such a benefit for working for Blackbridge Security.

“Hello?” the man answers. I’ve never had an interaction with the man across the hall other than a quick head nod when passing each other, but he doesn’t seem the type to have a voice like a three-pack-a-day smoker.

“Mr. Crosby, this is Finnegan Jenkins.”

“You’re one of Deacon’s guys,” he says.

“I am. Listen, I’m calling about the guy across the hall.”

“Ezra? Has something happened?”

“You could say that,” I mutter. “He’s got something off the wall going on over there. It sounds like he’s living with a pack of wolves.”

“I can assure you, the man lives alone. He has for years.”

“Pets then?” I ask because there’s clearly more than just him in that condo.

“He’s not approved for pets,” Mr. Crosby assures me.

“Can I ask you to check things out? It’s pure chaos over there.”

“I’ll handle it,” the man says, irritation lacing his tone. “Good day, Mr. Jennings.”

“It’s Jenkins,” I say, but the man has already disconnected.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take him to get control of the situation, but things over there don’t calm down for another hour and a half, but just like every night, it’s like a switch is flipped and silence ensues.

Chapter 3

Kendall

Despite it being Friday night, or should I say very early into the morning of Saturday, I like the silence when I get off work. The drive home is quick because most people are in bed asleep at this time. I don’t have to wait for the elevator like I would if I worked a regular nine-to-five job. Despite my feet killing me from being in heels all night, I quietly enter the condo with a smile on my face.

I take my time slipping my shoes off and putting my purse and keys on the console table, but then I stop dead in my tracks.