“Take your time. Do you mind if I take a look at your security system up front to see what we’re already working with?” Mr. Stone asked.
“I don’t mind,” Grant said, leading me to his office. He shut the door behind us, and I exhaled, leading me to his office. He
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like him,” I confessed softly.
“What don’t you like about him?”
“Something about him feels… rehearsed. It might sound crazy, but I feel like I’m talking to a shell of a person and no one is home.”
Grant rubbed his jaw, eyes scanning the floor like he was silently weighing his words.
“I hear you,” he said finally. “I do. But do you think there is the slightest possibility that you might be reading into things?”
I folded my arms, ignoring the churning in my stomach.
“Look, I know I’ve been stressed. Hell, we all have been stressed, but I know how I’m feeling, and this is not paranoia. This is instinct. He’s too polished. Too perfect. I felt like I was sitting across from a damn skin walker.”
“A skin walker. My God,” Grant whispered, leaning against the desk. “Mr. Stone was the Director of Intelligence for the FBI. He’s trained to be unreadable and detached. I agree that he’s rigid and doesn’t exactly have a shining personality, but this isn’t a personality contest. This is survival.”
I looked up at him, voice low. “I am trying to survive.”
Grant didn’t argue. He just nodded slowly, the crease between his brows deepening.
“Kiyah, you have the right to be comfortable with your protection detail. I want to meet you in the middle, but our options are limited, my love. I screwed up with Preston. I’ll take accountability and fucking own that. I’ll get on the phone with him, apologize, and see if he reconsiders, but if he doesn’t, what are our options? We can’t be sitting ducks, and this is not just about us. What about our family? They need protection, too.”
I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting to the closed door. “I hear you, Grant. There’s just something I can’t shake, and the fact that I didn’t feel this way with Mr. Preston should be evidence enough that we shouldn’t move forward.”
“How about a trial run? If you still feel unsettled after a month, then we’ll let him go.”
I’d rather not, was on the tip of my tongue, but Grant was right about us being sitting ducks. If God had mercy on us, Mr. Preston would forgive Grant, and we could kick Mr. Stone to the curb.
“One month, Grant. But you need to be on the phone with Mr. Preston apologizing, sending gift baskets, whatever you need to do to get him to agree.”
He crossed the room and physically unfolded my arms, wrapping them around his torso.
“I will make this right. I promise.”
I wanted to believe that everything would be alright, but life had been constantly giving us lemons, but not a pitcher to hold our lemonade.
Chapter Forty-Three
Grant
Thirteen times.
That was how many times Kieran called before we made our long-awaited arrival. We were late—more than fashionably, thanks to our meeting running late with Mr. Stone. We’d signed a month-to-month contract with Sentinel, and surprisingly, he was willing to expedite the onboarding process and start tomorrow. Kiyah was still on edge about Mr. Stone, and she didn’t hide her mistrust. Before leaving, Mr. Stone thanked her for trusting Sentinel Security with her safety. She bluntly told him she trusted him as far as she could throw him and walked out of the room, boot heels echoing behind her.
“You’re tense,” Kiyah spoke up as I pulled into the luxury condo’s parking garage. My eyes flick in her direction for a second before refocusing on the winding parking structure.
“I think I made a mistake.”
“Sentinel?”
I nodded.
“I shouldn’t question your intuition like that. It was your intuition that got you away from Branson when it mattered. And as your husband, if you tell me that something makes you uncomfortable, then I should acknowledge and move on, not twist your arm and force you to submit.”