“A congressional hearing is in the works. You’ll be called in. If someone doesn’t want their name exposed, they might silence you.”
A tension headache stirs behind my eyes. “I manage crises, Dorian. I’m not the crisis.”
“Then let me help you.”
“You mean let Caroline help me.”
“She has resources. Use them.”
“Your money funds them.”
“What’s mine is hers.”
“That’s generous,” I mutter.
“Alicia, please. Just a couple of weeks. For Stella.”
The doorbell chimes.
I jolt, nudging my mouse to wake the monitor. The grainy feed shows a tall man in dark clothes, collar flipped high against the wind. He scans the street—alert, methodical, controlled.
I've been in enough rooms with KOAN people to recognize him—one of their operatives, peripheral to the Crawford case. “Noah Bennett,” I say quietly.
“Yes,” Dorian confirms. “He’ll cover nights. Your day rotation will remain the same. You’ll barely notice his presence.”
“You sent him already?”
“Because I knew you’d resist.”
“I thought you said security isn’t one of KOAN’s services.”
KOAN wasn’t a traditional security firm. They handled high-risk contracts—extractions, intelligence, and discreet problem-solving for clients who didn’t want headlines. Bodyguard duty wasn’t spelled out in their mission statement.
“Caroline’s expanding—blending contracts, rescues, security. It’s her first year. The model’s evolving.”
The bell rings again.
“What exactly do you expect?”
“Noah Bennett is currently assigned night shift. He’s there at your door to touch base with you. The night shift—it’s just precautionary.”
“Unnecessary.”
“Yes, it’s in an abundance of caution, but please, for me. For Stella.”
My gaze lands on the silver frames of Stella, ranging from her as an infant in my arms, to a toddler photo with a wide, chubby-cheeked smile, to last year’s school photo in her middle school uniform where she appears to be far too old for her preteen years. She’s my life, and if something happened to her…
“You won’t even know he’s there. He’ll stay in the car?—”
“You think my neighbors won’t notice a man sitting in a car on the street all through the night?”
Even in my driveway, someone would notice. Dorian’s being ridiculous. People walk their dogs and push baby carriages up and down the sidewalks constantly, looking in windows, judging everything from flower beds to holiday décor.
“He can work from the guest room in the basement. But he’s the only one who has access inside my home. The others…they can meet me out front, at my businesses. I don’t want this arrangement to scare Stella. I’ll tell Stella that he’s…” I struggle for a way to spin it that won’t alarm my daughter. “I’ll tell her that he’s in charge of security for my business and he’s ensuring continuity. She knows I’ve had security during the day. I’ll tell her that he’s from out of town and so I offered him our guest room while he gets everything set up. She doesn’t need to know that he’s working nights. Two weeks. That’s all I’m giving you. No more than that. Understood?”
“Two weeks,” he agrees quickly.
“Caroline’s listening, isn’t she?”