Chapter Three
Duncan
“I’m on my knees begging.”
“Not literally.” Harley gave me an arch look. He wasn’t wrong. I was in the kitchen of my condo, leaning against the counter, sweaty from a workout, and decidedly standing upright.
“Would literal help?” I made the same puppy dog eyes that usually worked for Danny.
“No can do, LT, and you know I don’t say that lightly, but the studio just renewed my contract. I can’t leave them in the lurch.” Harley was my business partner and close friend, and I didn’t truly want him to walk out on one of our oldest and best contracts, a security specialist gig for location shoots for a couple of popular shows.
“I know, I know.” I groaned before taking a sip of my protein shake. Even a punishing workout couldn’t improve my attitude about Ezra. “I just need someone not me to take this gig.”
“Would it really be the worst thing for it to be you?” Harley shrugged, tattoos rippling in the morning light as he used his T-shirt as a towel. He liked the gym in my building, but I always teased him that my steam shower was the real attraction. And right then, he seemed more concerned with making it to that shower than solving my dilemma.
“How do you figure?”
“You’re the best one to give him A-List-quality service, build the brand. No one else is going to have your attention to detail.” Harley nodded sharply, his tone more matter-of-fact than complimentary. “You send one of the young guys, and they’re gonna get all starstruck and let Ezra boss them around. You said yourself he’s itching to bend the rules. You’ll keep him in line without pissing him off.”
“That’s a lot of faith you’re showing in me.” Everything I said seemed to tick Ezra off, which I didn’t understand. Most people liked me. And that wasn’t my ego talking. I’d built a reputation around being a nice guy, earning trust, and putting people at ease. Harley liked to say I was the only lieutenant who could tell his team to jump off a bridge with a smile and have them all smile back before complying without question. But Ezra didn’t like me. He needed me, but he didn’t hide that I was an option of last resort. He was motivated to save his tour, not to work with me.
“It’s well-earned.” Harley grabbed his drink off the counter. “You ensure he’s happy, and then that means more jobs for others down the line. Word gets out that we’re doing security for Ezra Moon and We Wear Crowns, and that’s gonna open a shitload of doors.”
“You’re not wrong.” As much as I doubted my ability to make Ezra happy, Harley had a good point. If I took this job myself, ideally, there would be more work and more reasons to hire new personnel in the future.
“Of course, I’m not.” Setting his drink aside, he removed an everything bagel from the bakery bag he’d brought with him. “Think of it as a free road-trip vacation. Bet you never had that.”
He raised an eyebrow because he knew me well. Older than me, he’d already been a world-weary chief when I’d been a green newly minted SEAL, ink on my commission barely dry, and he’d taken me under his wing. He could have left me to flounder, but that wasn’t his way, and our long history together meant he could joke about things I’d never let someone else get away with.
“Ha. Slumming it was flying commercial back to boarding school.” I could also be stone-cold honest with him. No need to sugarcoat my past. “No station wagon jaunts for my dad or minivan excursions for my mom, even after they split.”
“You missed out.” A smile teased the edges of his lips. He’d had a far humbler upbringing but way happier from my outside perspective. Big scattered family, the type to crowd into a van for a twelve-hour trip to a reunion. I’d had a movie-executive dad, a socialite mom, and none of the happy feels.
“On that, we’re in agreement.” My father’s version of family togetherness was command appearances at cocktail parties. The picture-perfect family trotted out for a photo op and put back on the shelf immediately after.
“So take this gig.” Tearing off a piece of bagel, Harley gestured with the other half, sesame seeds raining down. “See the country. Eat bad-for-you food. Stay up late.”
“God, you really do know me.” I tempered the complaint by laughing. But it was true. I was rather strict about my routine, which was one reason I wasn’t eager to travel again. I hated a borked-up sleep schedule, usually stuck to a healthy diet, and wasn’t the type to fit in with a bunch of rowdy late-night rockers.
“Yup. And besides, you’re SOL anyway, right?”
“Yeah.” Leave it to Harley to bottom-line it for me. I was shit out of luck. I’d known this entire conversation what the outcome would be. I simply didn’t like it and had spent the last twenty-four hours fighting my fate. “We don’t have enough personnel yet. Everyone we’ve got is booked solid and not eager to switch with me.”