Facade (Billionaire in Disguise 1)

“You do that. It’ll help you feel better. And I’ll get this stuff together and send it his way. You know, just in case. If anything, he can use it to get back at Jacob. Tell him to tell you the story about the tabasco-vodka incident. It’s classic. Derek hasn’t topped it yet.”

“Okay. I will. Thank you, Gretchen, for talking with me.”

“Anytime. Good night.”

“Night.”

I hung up the phone, now more suspicious than ever. Someone purposefully sent that woman toward Derek to embarrass him, concocting a story about him to slander him in the media. But they didn’t succeed because they didn’t account for Gretchen’s journalistic integrity.

Go her.

But it still didn’t tie up any loose ends. It only explained her presence at the company, which was more frustrating than ever. I was ready to throw my laptop onto the ground and stomp on it. There was something I was missing, and I was pissed because it was usually right in front of my fucking nose, something obvious I couldn’t see. I had to start at square one. I had to remove myself from Derek completely, from his preconceptions of the people who surrounded him and look into his life from the outside instead of from the middle.

I started to my bedroom before my phone caught my attention.

Come immediately. Emergency.

It was a text from John, and that shit was never good. But his text messages were usually sent with an emergency code. A three-digit combination we had come up with during our days at another private contracting facility. John and I had worked together for years, and we had our own ways of communicating. Especially when it came to text messages. We had three-digit codes that communicated every emergency from flood warnings to lockdowns to abductions to hospital visits.

Emergency code, John.

I waited for the three-digit number, but he never responded. I turned on my heels and started for the front door, leaving my laptop behind as I ran for my car. I called John’s phone. He picked up immediately, and I was pissed that he hadn’t messaged me back.

“Status report,” I said.

“Derek texted me and said there was an emergency. I’m headed to the house now,” John said.

“Why the fuck are you not at the house, John?”

“He kicked me out. Went crazy and chased me with a damn bat. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Take the damn thing from him and handcuff him to a toilet or some shit. What the fuck is a man like him chasing a man like you around? And what is this damn emergency?”

“I don’t know. He sent me the text, so I shot one off to you. I didn’t respond because I don’t know what the emergency is other than a rich bitch throwing a tantrum.”

“We don’t know what’s going on yet. Get our men checking the perimeter of the house. Get the cameras we installed in his home feeding to the screens I set up in his library. I’m on my way,” I said.

“The situation is secure for now. I’m approaching the house, and there doesn’t look like any signs of struggle.”

“Derek could’ve seen something from one of his windows. I want that perimeter double-checked and the house cased. I’m in my car now. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Roger that.”

“And John?”

“Yep?”

“Stop being such a damn pussy. Derek doesn’t like having you around because you’re not pretty to look at. Tell him if you don't guard him, then he can fucking defend himself,” I said.

“Got it.”

“Now wipe that grin off your face and check the damn house. I want a report to my cell phone before I pull into the damn driveway.”

“You got it, Sam.”

I sped out of the driveway of my home and raced to Derek’s mansion. If this was him crying wolf because he didn’t want John watching over him, then I was going to have his head. I was spread thinly enough as it was, and with him chirping in my ear with reputations and information he supposedly had on his employees wasn’t fucking helping me. Never in my life had it taken me this long to track down someone. And I knew it was because of his influence and because of his words.

Because of how I let that man get underneath my skin.