“Got a job for you both.” Kent strode into the meeting room, looking slightly harried.
Bain raised an eyebrow at Dominic who just grinned. They weren’t used to seeing the chief looking so frazzled.
“I saw that look,” Kent stated. He sat in a chair at the round table with a huge sigh. “Do you know how fucking difficult Clint is being? He doesn’t want a traditional stag night; he wants a combined night with Charlie and the girls. Only Charlie doesn’t want that. She’s told me in no uncertain terms to make certain he isn’t around during. . .well, whatever it is the women are getting up to. Abby is taking charge of that. Although I need to find out if they’re planning on leaving the ranch as they’ll need security.”
“Chief, ease up, man. You’re acting like you’re the wedding planner.” Dominic smirked. “You’re just the best man.”
Kent glared at them both. “Just the best man? I’m in charge of making sure Clint has a suit, that he remembers the ring, that he gets to the wedding on time, that he doesn’t just kidnap Charlie and elope.”
Bain grunted. That’s the way he’d do it. He’d gone through the whole huge white wedding thing once. Waste of fucking time and money.
But it had been what Jillian wanted. And at the time, he’d been so in love with her, he’d have given her anything. Nearly did. Just about bankrupted himself keeping her happy.
Never again.
“Be a good thing if he did.”
Dominic gave him an assessing look while Kent just sighed. “And miss out on seeing Charlie walking down the aisle? On the happiness shining from her face? Watching my brother fall to his knees in fucking joy? Getting to dance with my girl for half the night afterwards? I’d rather put up with this stress. But if Clint moans one more time about his monkey suit. . .I’m going to have to hogtie and gag the bastard.”
Dominic grinned. “You said something about a job, Chief?”
“Right, onto the work I actually get paid for,” Kent grumbled.
They all knew it was an act. The Jensens were a tight family. The fact that they’d opened their ranch up to accept people like them, men who wanted relationships where they were in charge, where women were protected and cherished, and that they treated everyone here like family. . .it spoke to their huge hearts.
Kent might bitch about his brother, but he’d be there in a second if Clint needed him. Moving here, accepting this job had been a lifeline for Bain after separating from Jillian. It had turned into the best decision he’d ever made.
“Ever heard of Arianna Silvers?” Kent asked, opening a folder and pulling out a photo. Yep, sometimes they still did things old-school around here. Bain liked that.
He looked down at the pretty singer. The photo was one of those publicity shots. A gorgeous woman with wavy, dark-red hair and pretty green eyes stared out at him. She had way too much make-up on, and her clothes probably cost more than he made in a month.
The least favorite part of his job was having to guard rich, stuck-up celebrities. They didn’t get these jobs that often, thank Christ, because usually these sorts of people had their own permanent bodyguards.
“Have to be dead not to have heard her music,” Dominic commented.
Both men looked at him.
“Not that it’s my cup of tea.” His cheeks reddened. Not his thing, huh?
“She in trouble?” Bain asked.
Kent frowned slightly. “Could be. She’s had a couple of threats sent to her.”
“Happens when you’re in the limelight,” Bain said cynically.
Kent shot him a look. “Well, these threats have scared her. She has a charity concert coming up and she’s worried.”
“Wouldn’t she be better with a permanent bodyguard or hiring a security company? Where does she live?” Dominic asked.
“She has an apartment in New York where she mostly lives. These are copies of the threats she’s received. The first one came approximately six weeks ago.”
He turned around a piece of paper.
I see you, my little songbird. You sing so pretty for me. Don’t worry, I’m coming to rescue you from the cage they put you. Then we can be together forever.
“Fuck,” Bain said with a frown. “No signature? Nothing on the envelope? Where was it mailed from? Cops find anything?”
Kent cleared his throat. “That’s the thing. These weren’t sent. They were hand-delivered to her apartment. An apartment with security. And none of these have been passed onto the police.”