I saw a need for some of the agents who stepped away from the game early. Those who still had a lot to offer, but not on the level we dealt with. For some recruits who realized they didn’t want the constant stress and emotional duress of what Hidden Justice constantly did to a psyche. I formed Elite Security, and we kept the agents in-house and employed. We catered to high-end clients and events. The people we protected had no idea that the men guarding them had training so lethal, they could clear a room in seconds without much effort. Luckily nothing even remotely close to that happened. The occasional overzealous fan of visiting celebrities, pushy entrepreneurs wanting to talk to local businessmen about their ideas, or a wedding crasher for society’s elite were about the highest danger we ran into. Among our biggest clients were the men of BAM, who hired us to oversee their charity events. Aiden Callaghan had used us for various gigs once he’d decided to step back as he grew close to retirement. We had a good working relationship. Aiden had confided in me about the events that had led to Bentley’s wife being kidnapped and his never-ending worry that something would happen to her again. I had assured him it never would on our watch. He thought I was joking when I informed him trained killers would be on alert every moment we were under contract with them.
I wasn’t.
Bentley would never have to be concerned over his wife’s safety. Or anyone else at BAM we were hired to protect.
I was the owner/manager of the business. The front man. It was a good cover, and I stayed close to the shadows while still maintaining a presence. No one ever suspected what I really did, and I made sure to keep it that way. None of the ex-agents I used were linked in any way to Hidden Justice, and we stayed under the radar. It was a win-win situation all around. I kept my hand in Hidden Justice and employed the agents who deserved the chance. The life demanded by this calling was not for everyone.
And I did it all from a secret office hidden in plain sight behind the one visible to the public. I had discovered early on in my career that people tended to overlook what was right in front of them if distracted by something else. Like a magician relying on sleight of hand to have you look elsewhere so he could pull off an illusion so breathtakingly real you never thought to question it.
I sat down, checking the cameras. Joyce was at her desk, afghan on the go. My office was empty. Damien was busy on his various laptops and computers downstairs, waving when he saw me signed in. I knew he’d be up soon to discuss the next case or client.
Meanwhile, I used our servers to find out what I could about the beautiful woman I had stupidly hired.
I needed to be fully armed with information in order to prepare myself.
I ignored the laughter in my head that informed me you could never fully prepare for a hurricane.
I found nothing suspicious about Taliyah Wells. Her age and birth date checked out. She was born in Alberta but moved to Quebec when she was young. Parents were deceased. She was raised by her grandmother, whom I could find little on except the basics, which wasn’t surprising. Her life had been lived before the invention of the internet. She had a sibling, but he was deceased as well, so she was alone in the world.
Taliyah had a high grade point average, thousands of dollars in outstanding student loans as she claimed, and lived in a basement apartment off Dundas Street. I hacked in to the employment records of 7&7. She’d worked there for six months, clean record, and her employee file had little in it to help me in any way.
I noted a lack of information for a two-year stretch, which was curious, but when I backtracked, I realized she had lost her grandmother and brother close together around the beginning of that time frame, so it could be explained easily with taking time off to grieve. She didn’t attend school or work in that missing expanse, which explained her later-in-life graduation from university.
I found pictures from some social media sites from her younger days before she’d lost her brother and grandmother. Interestingly enough, she had no Facebook, Instagram, or any other account anymore. The older pictures showed a youthful but still beautiful version of her. She was serious-looking in most pictures, much as she had been while sitting across from me. I had a feeling that smiles were rare for her. I had to wonder how she functioned as a bartender. Was she aloof and mysterious? Friendly but quiet?