Protection for Hire (15 page)

“Well, I’d be angry if my daddy left me. And at ten, I’d be old enough to remember it and be hurt by it.”

“I do remember. And I was hurt. But now …” She paused as she maneuvered the needle tip back through the loop, pulling the yarn through as well. “… now, I kind of feel numb. There!”

“Good job.” Vivian smiled and laid a hand on her knee.

Her touch, her smile, reminded Tessa of a favorite fuzzy brown sweater she used to have. Alicia hadn’t liked the color and so she gave it to Tessa, and the soft, lofty yarn had felt like angel’s wings against her skin. She’d worn that sweater until it had huge gaping holes.

“I don’t think numb is always a bad thing,” Vivian said. “It just means you’re not yet ready to deal with things, and when you are, well, then it’ll all come out. It might even be refreshing.”

Tessa shrugged.

“And maybe it happened to you for a reason,” Vivian said.

“My cellmate Evangeline told me that once, but I don’t see what reason there could be.”

“Don’t you? Paisley just lost her father.”

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t made the connection before. Maybe because she so rarely thought about Dad. “But what could I do for her?”

“What do you wish someone had done for you when your daddy left?”

She thought back to those days. She expected to feel a pang, but she really felt nothing. She remembered drifting around the house, no dad to laugh with, to wrestle with, to go hiking with. “I guess I wanted someone to spend time with me. So, I could spend time with Paisley, except what would we do? I don’t know the first thing about doing hair or makeup or — heaven help us — talking about boys. I suppose I could teach her jiu-jitsu,” she joked.

But Vivian said, “That’s a good idea.”

“Teach my niece mixed martial arts moves? Alicia would have a cow.” But actually, knowing Paisley’s adventurous nature, she might enjoy it.

Vivian shrugged. “You never know until you try.”

“It might be fun, but …” She shook her head. “Alicia and I already have such a rocky relationship. I think this would only make things worse. Things were never smooth between us even before Dad disappeared.”

“Do you think your uncle had anything to do … oh.” Vivian
stopped, her cheeks pink. “There I go again. I promised Charles I wouldn’t ask you awkward questions.”

Tessa had been touched by how Charles made an effort to not let the conversation drift into murky waters, and to voluntarily shift it if it did. He respected her position as her uncle’s niece. It was almost as if he were protecting her — a strange sensation, because she hadn’t had many people in her life who protected her. She always took care of herself.

“I did ask my uncle once if he had anything to do with Dad’s disappearance,” Tessa said softly. “He said he hadn’t been involved in it at all.”

“And do you believe him?” Vivian asked shrewdly.

“I don’t know. Considering his position, he may not have told me the truth.”

And did she really want to know? Mom had always denied Dad had any involvement in the yakuza, but it seemed he left so quietly, quickly. She had woken up one morning and he was gone.

“If he hadn’t left though, I don’t know that my uncle and I would have gotten so close. Even before Dad left, Uncle Teruo sent me to martial arts schools because I was getting picked on at school, but after Dad was gone, Uncle got even more involved in my life.”

And what would her life have been like, if that hadn’t happened? She wouldn’t have gone to prison. She wouldn’t have met Elizabeth or Vivian either. Or Charles. A part of her squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of never meeting Charles.

“You have to believe that God had his hand over you despite everything that happened to you,” Vivian said. “He wanted you to find him, even if that meant you’d only find him in prison. And don’t you think that might have been worth it?”

Tessa remembered first accepting Christ. It was as if she’d
been color blind all her life and suddenly could see all the colors around her. She hadn’t even realized the burden over her until it was suddenly lifted away. The one thing she had thought over and over was, why hadn’t she done this before? Why had she wasted so much time?

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it was completely worth it.”

“And now, you’re protecting people like Elizabeth and Daniel,” Vivian said. “I think that’s a noble calling.”

“Noble? With my past?”

“But your past is past. You can’t help it. But you can walk forward in the newness of Christ — in newness of purpose, pleasing Christ.”

Newness of purpose. She liked that. “I don’t know for sure what my
purpose
is. I know I should try to control my temper with my sister and be nicer to my mom, and I haven’t been doing that very well.”

“Trust me, patience with family takes time, even for those of us who’ve been around longer than you,” Vivian said dryly. “Your sister should meet my sister-in-law Coco …”

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Tessa sat up, her knitting falling to the floor. “Were you expecting anyone?”

Vivian shook her head. “Maybe it’s Fed Ex?”

“Charles didn’t tell us he was expecting a package.”

If Tessa were a team of people about to storm a house, she’d have people covering the major exits, which would include the large French doors leading from the living room. The glass was covered by shades, so Tessa moved to the wall on one side of the door and cracked the shades. All she saw was Charles’s side garden, an intimate grotto with a wooden bench and a trickling fountain, empty.

Tessa next moved to the front door and peeked out the peephole.
She saw a young man, a few years younger than Charles, but with the same riot of curls — more bleached blond than golden brown — and that distinctive Roman nose.

She asked Vivian, “Does Charles have a brother?”

“Oh! Eddie!” Vivian beamed. “Naughty boy, he was supposed to call before coming over. I told him all about you.”

“All?” But Tessa opened the door.

“Hi!” Eddie beamed, dimples flashing exactly like she would guess Charles’s would if he ever cracked a real smile. “You’re Tessa? I’m Eddie, Charles’s brother. Hiya, Mama.”

Tessa let him in and Vivian wrapped him in an embrace. He was several inches shorter than his brother, although stockier in build. She also realized she recognized him. “You were at OWA. You were the employee who dropped him.”

“I didn’t drop him, he fell,” Eddie quickly said. Then he winked. “He probably wanted to meet you. I could have told him easier ways to meet a pretty girl than landing on her head.”

Despite herself, she felt warmth creep up her neck at the compliment. If Charles had this kind of charm, she’d have fallen head over heels regardless of her uncle’s disapproval.

“You don’t look dangerous,” Eddie said. “Charles said you knew 101 ways to maim me with a pen cap.”

“I don’t make a habit of maiming everyone I meet.”

“So can you teach me some moves?” He did a Bruce Lee
Enter the Dragon
impression that nearly clocked her in the nose.

“Eddie, what would you need to know fighting moves for?” Vivian raised her eyebrows at him.

“You never know, Mama. I might need to fend off a jealous boyfriend.”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re stealing boys’ girlfriends, you deserve every beating you get.”

Eddie laid a hand on his heart. “I’m hurt at your lack of sympathy, my own mother.”

“I’m appalled at your lack of morals, you tomcat.”

Eddie leaned close to Tessa. “I think I need to know some fighting moves to protect me from my own mother.”

This bantering both amused and saddened her. Why couldn’t she have this kind of friendly relationship with her own family? What was wrong with them? With her?

“I could always not feed you, you bottomless pit,” Vivian said.

“You already tried to do me in last week with that spicy Thai curry. I thought my tongue would shrivel up in my throat.”

Vivian turned her nose up at him. “Wimp.”

Eddie threw an arm around Vivian and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “There’s my loving mama.”

Vivian gave a grudging smile. “For that, I’ll fix you a snack. How about I try this new recipe I found for Mexican-Irish-fusion spring rolls?”

Eddie gulped. “How about cheese grits instead? Tessa, have you had Mama’s cheese grits?”

“I haven’t had cheese grits ever.”

Vivian’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Ever?”

Tessa pointed a finger at her own chin. “Half-Japanese, remember? Father left when I was ten, raised by a Japanese mother and uncle? I can make a mean
sukiyaki
, but cheese grits … what are grits anyway?”

Vivian shook her head. “You poor deprived child. You should have told me sooner. You need good Southern cooking to make your life complete.” She turned and headed to Charles’s massive kitchen.

Eddie suddenly slammed into her with a quick bear hug.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “You have saved our family. I thought she’d never cook real food again.”

“You mean she doesn’t usually go for all this … challenging cuisine?”

“We rue the day we got her cable and she started watching the Food Network. One time she tried to copy the entire six courses she saw on
Iron Chef
. The secret ingredient was oysters
.
” Eddie shuddered. “She even made the dessert — oyster ice cream.”

Blech.
“How … creative. But her Vietnamese
pho
noodles last night were pretty good.”

“That’s because she took a class in Vietnamese cooking at the local community center last week. Before that, she was working off of internet recipes and substituting fish sauce with ketchup.”

“I’m not a gourmet cook, but even I know that’s just wrong.”

“You are now an honorary member of the Britton family,” Eddie said. “Until you have eaten every Southern dish known to man.”

“Or I get sick of you all,” Tessa said with a smile.

“Impossible. And you will never want to disown us after you’ve had Mama’s biscuits and bacon gravy.”

She had never felt this way before — part of a family unit. A real family, not the dysfunctional jumble her own family was. A family that made her feel welcome and included. A family where she mattered.

And what would she do when this job was over? When she had said goodbye to Elizabeth and Daniel and no longer had any reason to speak to Charles or Vivian again?

The thought made her stomach freeze. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

Things would go back to the way they were, she supposed.

She just wished that thought didn’t seem so bleak.

H
eath Turnbull’s private equity firm had saved Charles’s delicate stomach. Specifically, the research into Heath’s firm saved Charles’s stomach. Because if he hadn’t had the excuse of needing to stay at work late to look over some documents and search the online databases, he would have had to come home to partake of Mama’s glorious new creation, something that sounded like Maw Paw Dough Foo.

“You just made up that excuse about work, didn’t you?” Eddie accused him on the phone around seven o’clock.

“You’re at the house already?” Charles asked.

“I just walked in the door and the pepper in the air is making my eyes water.”

“You’re being a good son. Such a valiant sacrifice of your stomach lining in the name of familial love.” Charles sat at his desk with a massive
mojado
burrito in a Styrofoam container in front of him. Another burrito sat on the corner, waiting for Rick. The smells of rich enchilada sauce and cheddar cheese wafted in the air.

“How did you know Mama’s
mapo doufu
was going to be spicy?” Eddie demanded.

“I googled it quickly on the computer when Mama called me this afternoon. As soon as I saw Szechuan and chili sauce, I remembered I had to work late tonight, shucks.”

“Man, I wish I’d done that.” Eddie coughed. “She just added another gigantic red pepper to the wok.”

“I hope you brought the antacids,” Charles told him cheerfully. “I’m eating Mexican food tonight.”

“You dog.
Mojado
burritos from the Burrito Factory?”

“Yup.” He smacked his lips.

“You’re sick and twisted. You’re getting too much enjoyment out of my pain and suffering.”

A knock at his office door and Rick walked in.

“Gotta go, Eddie.”

“Can you call Mama and tell her you need my help tonight?” Eddie pleaded.

“You can’t leave Tessa to face Mama’s cooking alone.”

There was a significant silence on the other end of the line.

“And Elizabeth and Daniel,” Charles hastened to add.

“Mama made Daniel chicken nuggets. Maybe I can steal some. Oh!” Eddie’s exclamation was higher pitched and positively beaming.

“What is it?”

“Mama made cannoli,” Eddie gloated.

“What? Cannoli?”

“Charles is missing his cannoli,” his brother sang.

For a moment, Charles’s heart sank. He might have been willing to brave his mouth on fire for some cannoli …

No. His tongue would be too numb with pain to even enjoy it. “Bye, Eddie.” Charles hung up.

Rick had settled down in the chair across from Charles and grabbed the Styrofoam container with his burrito. He used his
plastic fork to cut off a huge bite and stuffed it in his mouth. “Mmm.”

“You act as if your wife doesn’t feed you.” But Charles took an equally large bite of his burrito. The melted cheese wrapped around the flour tortilla, melding with the perfectly seasoned Spanish rice, fajita-spiced beef strips, beans, and salsa.

“My wife hates Mexican food,” Rick said. “I only get this stuff when you bribe me to work late.”

“Is that why you’re always helping Rodriguez with his extra work?”

“Two words: homemade tamales.”

Charles set down his burrito container. “Brought your laptop with you?”

Rick groaned. “I can’t eat first?”

“You can eat and do database searches at the same time.”

Charles looked into Heath’s bank account records, which he’d subpoenaed, and realized Heath really didn’t have much in his joint account with Elizabeth. It looked like it was just enough for living expenses or the occasional shopping spree. He deposited money into the account every few months.

“Most of his money is tied up in private equity investments.” Rick tapped at his laptop, his feet propped up on the edge of Charles’s desk. “His money could be tied up for years.”

“It doesn’t look like he can get a hold of any large sum of money quickly.”

“You’ll need a hacker to find out about his offshore accounts or any accounts he hasn’t disclosed. Because you can’t tell me he doesn’t have them.” Rick peered at him over the top edge of his computer screen.

“I found something,” Charles said as he searched through one of the comprehensive databases the firm subscribed to.
“One of the major investments of Heath’s firm isn’t doing well.”

“If he’s got a lot invested in that himself, this entire divorce might be about money after all.”

“Yeah. Maybe he needs his wife’s money, or he’s already used it without her permission. Maybe he can’t divorce her because he needs the money?”

“Wait, I found an article,” Rick said. “There’s a rumor Stillwater Group is about to make a new deal. Lots of money.”

“Enough to save the firm?”

“Ten times that.”

“Who are the investors?”

“Doesn’t say. Very hush-hush.”

A sudden knock on the door made Charles look up from his computer. “Manchester.”

The senior partner stood in the open doorway. “I’m glad you’re still here, Charles.” His eyes fell on Rick lounging in the chair.

Rick immediately dropped his feet from the edge of Charles’s desk. “Sir.”

“Rick’s helping me with some research,” Charles said.

Mr. Greer eyed the half-eaten burritos and shook his head. “You and your Mexican food, Rick.”

“Can I do something for you, sir?” Charles said.

“I hear you’re fighting Augustine’s motion to compel for the St. Amant case.” His gray brows had settled lower over his eyes.

“It’s insane that they’re issuing a deposition notice so early, and that they’re trying to compel us to produce our client for testimony. We haven’t even gotten the documents we asked for.”

“I know Dan Augustine,” Mr. Greer said. “Idiot. I guarantee you that if you agree to the deposition, Augustine will blow it. You’ll learn more about his case from his questions than he’ll learn from Ms. St. Amant’s answers.”

He hadn’t seemed like an idiot when Charles spoke to him. “Still, I’d like more time to research the company before we let Augustine at my client.”

“The company?” Mr. Greer said. “You mean Stillwater Group? Why?”

Charles would have thought it was obvious. “It’s an asset and Turnbull is fighting us over money.”

“That’s just Augustine blowing smoke. Turnbull’s firm is doing …” He gave a slight shrug. “Okay.”

He obviously knew about Heath’s company, Stillwater Group, and since Mr. Greer typically worked with venture capitalists and private equity firms, Charles asked, “Have you ever worked with this firm before?”

Greer’s face grew slack, and he paused before answering. “I think I worked with a few members of this company back when they worked for another private equity firm, now defunct. However, I haven’t worked with Stillwater Group in particular.”

“Have you heard the rumor about the new deal they’re about to make?”

Mr. Greer frowned deeply. “Lots of rumors. No way to know what’s true and what’s not. But we can safely guess it’s a very big deal going down — maybe already a done deal — with a lot of money at stake.” Mr. Greer shook his head. “Turnbull’s only a small fish at Stillwater. I highly doubt this has anything to do with his divorce.”

Charles wasn’t entirely sure. When he considered the lengths Heath was going to in order to get Elizabeth back — or maybe shut her up permanently — it seemed to point to something more at stake than Heath’s marriage or pride. However, he couldn’t prove anything concrete. Even Tessa mentioned that she couldn’t prove anything definitive with the two tails. But being attacked
near her mama’s house by two of the same men who were with Heath seemed to show how serious this all was.

“This is all highly irregular —” Charles started to say, but Mr. Greer interrupted him.

“Yes, it’s unusual to have a deposition this early, but the only one who would be losing out would be Augustine. When does he want to have it?”

“He’s been leaving messages, wanting it done in the next week or two.” The man’s pushiness bordered on urgency. Typically, it took a month or two to schedule a deposition because of the lawyers’ schedules.

“Then just schedule it,” Mr. Greer said. “Get it over with. What’ll happen is that Augustine will give something away in his own words — he always does.”

“I’m a bit concerned for my client’s safety. It’s another reason I’ve been fighting the deposition.”

“Safety?” Mr. Greer looked almost affronted. “What makes you say that?”

“Ms. St. Amant’s bodyguard has said there’s been some … suspicious activity around her client, and most of it points back to Mr. Turnbull.”

“Well, if she has a bodyguard, then she should be perfectly safe at the deposition. However, I commend you for your caution.”

Mr. Greer turned to go, but turned back at the doorway to say, “I must confess, I’ve been extraordinarily pleased with your work on this case, Charles. I’m sure Rick will agree with me that you display all the intelligent and diligent qualities of a partner of this law firm.” He almost smiled.

Then he was gone.

For a moment, Charles was a scrawny seventh grader again,
playing on the school football team. The only reason he’d tried out was because his father had forced him to, saying he was too weak and needed toughening up.

He’d run out, looking over his shoulder, but not expecting the quarterback to throw to him … and suddenly the ball had landed in his hands.

He’d frozen. He couldn’t believe it. Not just that the quarterback had thrown him the ball, but that he’d actually caught it. Then he’d registered the screaming crowd — of twelve people — and he’d run as fast as he could toward the goal line. It was the first and only touchdown he ever made.

He felt like that now.

Rick looked stunned. “That was completely surreal. Was that really Manchester Greer? Not his evil twin brother?”

“I would think an evil twin brother would fire me, not compliment me.”

“Compliment?
Compliment?
That was practically a promise you’ll make partner if he has any say in the matter — and oh, since he’s one of the firm’s biggest rainmakers, he can practically pick the new partners himself. What did you do to get on his good side? Did you slip happy pills into his coffee or something?”

“Is it so impossible that I might actually be doing a good job?”

“Since your IQ is a half step above Bert and Ernie, yes.”

“Let me guess.
Sesame Street
marathon this past weekend?”

Rick groaned. “Last night. My youngest was feeling nostalgic. I haven’t been able to get ‘Rubber Ducky’ out of my head all day.”

By tacit agreement, they went back to work, because even though Manchester Greer thought he didn’t need to research
Stillwater Group, Charles didn’t want to go in to the deposition unprepared.

The deposition nagged at him. Tessa wasn’t going to like it. Most likely it would be at Augustine’s law offices and they’d probably insist Tessa leave the room when they conducted the interview with Elizabeth.

Charles admitted he didn’t like it either. It didn’t seem safe for Elizabeth. But Mr. Greer had ordered him to agree to the deposition, and he was technically the lead lawyer on this case.

And after Mr. Greer dangled that carrot in front of Charles tonight, could he really afford not to do as he was told? He’d been at Pleiter & Woodhouse for almost eight years. If he didn’t make partner soon, he never would. And he hadn’t worked this hard, driven himself this hard, not to achieve his dream.

The memory of the football game flashed in front of him again. Despite his touchdown, his team lost the game. Even after the touchdown, all his dad said was, “I’ll believe it’s not a fluke if you can do it again.”

But he hadn’t.

The memory dragged at him and tangled his soul like a weighted fishing net. He shook it off and concentrated on his computer screen.

He was
this
close to a second touchdown. He wouldn’t screw it up.