Fifteen
Slade
Three Weeks Later
The past three weeks have been quiet. Two more letters have been received, but nothing to make it seem like this guy is escalating. It’s like the crazy stalker took a break, or he’s coming up with something we have no way to prepare for.
Being his devious self, Drake came up with a plan—one that I’m not all that fond of, but the main bait would be me. So, I’m going to entertain his grand scheme. Taylor vetoed it instantly when we told her. If I was going to be bait, then she wanted to be too. No fucking way would I ever allow that.
Which leads me to the point that it’s been quiet, almost too quiet. I’ve rescheduled every appointment I could, making sure Drake, Bridger, or myself could pick up and drop off Taylor. This week though, I’m short staffed. Drake is dragging his ass on the surgery and is instead going to physical therapy four times a week in an attempt to put off surgery. It’s put him in a hell of a mood, and I feel bad for the physical therapist having to deal with him.
Bridger is out of town this week on a personal security detail, letting us all know he’s tired of dealing with a prima donna Rockstar. We’ve had this client before, and Bridger isn’t wrong to gripe.
That leaves me dealing with a Russian diplomat and a meeting that he wouldn’t let me reschedule. I close down my computer, knowing I need to find someone to pick up Taylor. There is no way in hell I’ll allow her to walk out of the courthouse unescorted or get home by herself.
I walk out to the front reception area; Leo didn’t answer my phone call earlier, which means he could either be out or he’s fucking off around here somewhere.
“Kellie, do you know where Leo is?” I ask her.
“He just walked in. Want me to page him up here for you?” she asks.
“Please. I swear that fucker ignores me on purpose,” I grunt and then realize I probably screwed up. She’s a nervous nelly around us on the best of days. “Sorry for my language,” I say as she hangs up the phone.
“No worries. Leo said he’ll be out in just a second.” She returns to her work. That gut feeling that’s had me eating antacids all day today is making its presence known again.
“Hey, Slade.” Leo comes up to the front of the office, placing his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, is there a reason you weren’t answering your phone?” I ask.
“I was out to lunch,” he smarts back. This fucker, if he doesn’t stop screwing around, I’m going to fire him.
“You use a company phone and a company vehicle, you get paid more than others, so you’re not off the clock for fucking lunch. Answer your damn phone next time.”
“Of course.” Something tells me I’m going to regret what I’m about to ask him.
“Leo, can you pick Taylor up from the courthouse for me? I have to meet a client and he won’t budge on rescheduling. He refuses to meet with anyone else or anytime else either.” I shake my head in disgust. This foreign diplomat is like a prickly bear, but one you don’t piss off.
“Sure thing, I don’t have anything planned,” Leo responds. He’s still new to our company. Truth be told, the only reason we hired him on was because Drake’s Mom practically begged us to before he got into too much trouble. Apparently, he was getting in with the wrong crowds even at the age of twenty-two.
“She gets off at five o’clock, but I want you there thirty minutes before. Text me as soon as she’s secure and in the vehicle with you. I know it’s above what we’d normally do, but with this stalker on the loose, we can’t screw it up. Do a sweep of our house, make sure the door is locked, then call me. I can’t stress the importance of this enough.” The stress this brings me has me eating antacids anytime my mind ventures to the situation. The stalker is practically a ghost.
“I’ll take care of it. You worry about not pissing off the client,” he grunts out.
“Don’t take your personal car. Take a company SUV. I’ll text Taylor before my meeting and let her know you’ll be picking her up.”
“Piece of cake,” Leo replies. I’m apprehensive to even have him guard the most precious person in this world to me.
“All right, don’t fuck up.”
“You do one wrong thing and it’s like an atomic bomb,” he replies. One wrong thing my ass, it makes me not even want to give him this task.
“One? Do you really want to go there?” Those are my last words as I turn and walk back to my office.