Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

“Of course. We have multiple doctors on staff, all of whom have been briefed. You will be given their office’s direct number.”

“Then I suppose I can accept it,” Atlas said.

“Very good,” Decebal said. He seemed genuinely pleased. “I have already agreed to the agency’s fees and negotiated salary, which will be shared with you when you return to Beatrice for her final signatures on the necessary paperwork.”

Bea was clearly dead set on his getting this contract. “Well, then, if I could borrow a pen—”

Decebal handed one over with a smile and watched Atlas sign the copy of the agreement. Once he finished and passed the papers back over the desk, Decebal flipped through, initialing several pages, before signing the final space with a flourish and returning the document to Atlas. He set the pen aside and called a command to the door.

Helias entered and came to Decebal’s side. Decebal asked, “Is he coming?”

“Yes, though he’s less than pleased.”

“Wait for him in the hall. Knock before you enter,” Decebal ordered Helias, who nodded and vanished once more from Atlas’s sight.

“Who’s coming?” Atlas asked, glancing back to Decebal. He didn’t have anywhere to tuck the envelope, so he held on to it instead.

“My son,” Decebal said, as if it were obvious. “I requested he meet you.”

“He was aware a new agent was being assigned to this position?”

“Oh, yes,” Decebal said. “He was amused at my continued efforts. He enjoys lording it over me every time an agent quits.”

“If I may, sir, why didn’t you have someone already on your staff take the position?”

“Due to shifts within my business and the complications that have arisen from those changes, I believe it is wiser to hire someone from outside my family for the time being.” Decebal tilted his head a little and gave Atlas a knowing look. “Do you understand me, Mr. Kinkaid?”

Oh, shit. Yes, yes, he did understand. Bea had said it was a delicate situation, but he hadn’t expected this. Threats from inside always complicated a job. At least Decebal had the foresight to warn him of it now, rather than when it became too late.

When Atlas nodded, Decebal continued, “Beatrice said you are cool headed. That you do not rise to bait easily. I need such a man to keep my son safe.”

Two quick raps on the door.

“Enter,” Decebal called.

The door opened again and Atlas knew, without turning around, who he’d see in the doorway. Knew it because Fate was a fickle bitch. Knew it because people like him didn’t get easy breaks, no matter how much money an agreement promised.

Knew it because the scent of chamomile had already wafted toward him.

Decebal waved a hand toward the door’s general vicinity. “Atlas Kinkaid, I’d like you to meet my son, Cristian Slava.”

He could do this. Damn it t

o hell, he had to do this because he didn’t have any other choice. The papers in his hand burned his skin through the envelope. He bit his tongue until he swore he could taste blood, rose from the chair, turned toward the door, and said, with all the politeness he could manage, “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Slava.”

Cristian—the gorgeous man from the hall with his too-tight pants and incredible scent and undisguised disdain—tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, you were right, Mr. Kinkaid. I can tell when you mean it.”

“You’ve met before?” Decebal asked, confused.

He never should have spoken to this brat.

“Briefly. In the hall. He was quite interested in...the job.” Cristian’s blue eyes narrowed as he gave Atlas another too-slow once-over. His smirk made Atlas want to rip the envelope of agreements to shreds right then and there, but that was no longer a viable escape. Cristian must have known it. He slapped Helias on the back. “The consilier will surely tell you plenty about me. In the meantime, I’ve a meeting to attend.” He turned to Decebal. “Dinu and Ioana will accompany me. We’ll be home before sunrise.” And, like that, he walked away again, taking all of Atlas’s hopes for an easy job with him.

Chapter Three

Helias was waiting out front for Atlas when he pulled in for his first shift the next night. He accepted the envelope containing Bea’s final, signed copies of the contract with a murmured thanks and took a moment to inspect Atlas’s appearance.

“I see the suit we ordered fit well,” he said. “Ms. Kinkaid provided us with the measurements from your personnel file. You can expect another suit to arrive tomorrow. The rest will be finished by the end of the week.”