Some Like It Deadly (3 page)

Not when Brett Johnson had hung his future on Richard defending him. If he lost, Johnson would lose his store, his life’s work and his retirement. The man didn’t deserve that.

One benefit of his own firm was the ability to take on any case he chose—like Johnson. His younger associates did a fair share of pro bono work, it was a requirement of their hiring into Prentiss and Associates, but some cases were personal for Richard and he kept them on the down low. Those details didn’t leave his office.

Kate had taken it upon herself to remove his can of Coke and he hadn’t finished it yet. Irritated, but forcing patience, he twisted the cap off the water bottle. After swallowing a long drink of water he nodded to her steno. She picked up her pen and looked at him expectantly. “Let’s draft a letter to Mr. Johnson and alert him to the continuance, dated today. Brett, please accept my apologies for the many delays your case has faced over the last few months. I spoke to and obtained a continuance in the discovery phase today due to just returning to the office from my recovery. I also have some questions regarding the previous continuance. All briefs will be filed with Judge Ryan’s office next Monday—add the date—and I will contact you when a trial date has been set. I know your concerns and I will do everything I can to resolve this matter prior to going to trial. I look forward to talking to you soon, sincerely—fill in the data.”

He took another drink and watched her flip the page to begin the next letter. They’d managed six before his next call. Since he could handle talking to Armand’s cousin Frankie about the upcoming release of her trust fund without Kate, he sent her out to take care of those letters.

Closing his eyes, Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. Alone, he could admit to the weariness dragging on him. He shouldn’t have tried to play so hard on the court. He didn’t have anything to prove with Armand—except he did. His best friend still blamed himself for the car accident and had all but buried Richard in bodyguards for the three months of his convalescence. Though Richard had read the reports from Armand’s security team, as well as the investigation opened by the police department, he remembered very little of the actual accident.

That bothered him. He thrived on details, but the vague shadow of crunching metal and falling were all he’d been able to piece together. The doctors had told him he may never remember it.

Though his case remained open, everyone—Armand included—believed the accident was tied to the same group that tried to kill Armand. Richard was the face of the family, and it didn’t matter that they had no conclusive proof, his best friend wouldn’t let it go. Richard’s injuries had scared Armand and he’d reacted accordingly.

Hell
,
he probably bribed that doctor to keep me on limited mobility
.

Playing hard had been the only way to prove he was back up to snuff. Except—his side ached and he wanted that nap Kate had suggested earlier. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he hit the button for Kate’s desk. “I won’t typically ask for this, but I have to get on the phone with Francesca Grace to go over some inheritance issues. Do you mind heading down to the coffee kart in the lobby and picking me up a latte? Treat yourself to one too.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Prentiss. Are you sure you don’t want me to cancel the five o’clock call? You could have thirty minutes before we head to the function.”

No, he wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t afford to show weakness to anyone. “The coffee will be fine, thank you.”

He’d barely hung up and started to dial out again when the crash of a door slamming against the wall echoed from the outer office, followed by a very loud, very irate male voice.

Chapter Two

Heated voices in the hall alerted her to a problem. She was already on her feet when the door to her office burst open to reveal a red-faced man with a vein all but popping in his forehead. In the split-second between the door slamming and his mouth opening, she identified the intruder as Caucasian. Blood shot eyes. At least six feet. Brown hair not just receded, but in full retreat. And a distinctly off-kilter balance. He had no weapons in his hands, no telltale bulges under his jacket sleeves.

“Where the hell is he?” He demanded, stalking toward the door to Richard’s office, but Kate stepped into his path, her right hand stiff and ready to jab.

“Mr. Prentiss is otherwise occupied.” She kept her tone cordial and locked gazes with the infuriated man. His scowl seemed designed to intimidate. Unfortunately for him, Kate was far from impressed. “If you’d like to make an appointment, we can consult the calendar.”

“Missy, get out of my way before I move you.” The man’s bellow offered another clue—it reeked of alcohol.

“That would be an assault charge.” She had a panic button that would alert Prentiss’s security detail, but she left it alone. Despite his antagonistic demeanor and threats, he’d stopped a good foot away from her. “One more step and we can make it battery. Now I’m sure whatever issue you have for Mr. Prentiss can be easily resolved. Why don’t you take a seat?”

Most bullies got their jollies by inciting a reaction. By denying him one she hoped to defuse the situation. The door behind her opened and every muscle in Kate’s body coiled. She didn’t shift, keeping her full attention on the stranger.

“Dad.” Richard’s aggrieved tone eased the tension in her spine, but not her vigilance. “Are you seriously threatening my assistant?”

“Where’s Miranda?” Richard’s father looked past her to his son. Despite the filial acknowledgement, Kate didn’t see any resemblance between the brute in front of her and the lean, dangerously handsome man she’d been working across from all day.

“She’s not here, obviously. Ms. Braddock, please accept my apologies on behalf of my father. He’s not usually quite so much of a jackass on first acquaintance.” The tiredness simmering beneath his voice kept her on alert. “Dad, I have a call that I am now late for. Can this wait?”

“No, dammit.” The man lurched forward, apparently intending to bulldoze right through Kate. She made a split-second judgment call and blocked him by putting her foot right between his as he stepped. A calculated move—it was designed to look like she had attempted to get out of his way—and they collided. His already unsteady balance had him pitching to the side. She caught his arm and applied pressure as her knee glanced off the back of his.

She had to hit the desk with her hip, but he was seated in a chair and Richard had rushed forward to steady her. “My goodness, Mr. Prentiss—please accept my apologies for being in your way.” Not that she felt an ounce of sorrow, but her cover had to be maintained.

“Are you all right?” Richard focused his concern on her and kept his hand on her elbow. At her nod he turned on his father. The transformation from exhausted to sharp attorney added a distinct edge to his expression. But instead of saying anything to the man, he reached over her desk and picked up the phone and dialed a three-digit code.

Security.

“This is Richard Prentiss. Benedict Prentiss is in Ms. Braddock’s office, please send a couple of men up to escort him from the building and have a car deliver him home—do
not
let him drive.” He hung up then folded his arms. “Ms. Braddock, if you don’t mind waiting in my office.”

“You have a call, Mr. Prentiss, and a very busy evening schedule. If you’d like to take care of it, I will see that this issue is handled.” She kept her body angled between the two men. Whatever discord existed between them, his father was drunk and Richard could not afford additional injuries—especially not when he’d pushed himself so damn hard already.

A muscle flexed in Richard’s jaw. “This is not covered in our employment contract. No one should have to put up with him.” And didn’t that speak volumes for the contentious relationship between the two.

“That’s hardly a way to talk about your father when I’m sitting right here.” Benedict Prentiss tried to stand, but sat back down abruptly. The bilious look on his face suggested the only real danger he posed now was to the carpeting.

“Mr. Prentiss, go make your call.” Kate decided on a gentle coaxing tone. “We’re on the clock and, as you can see, he’s quite settled in the chair.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Richard murmured, not quite turning his head and yet she could still feel the weight of his regard.

Yes, she did. “But you do need to make that call, and security is already on their way up.” And would be fired if she were in charge.

He hesitated, seemingly aggravated on multiple levels and she didn’t care for the way his jaw continued to tick. “I’ll leave the door open. You stand in it so I can see you, if he gets stupid, just step all the way in and shut the door.”

“So that’s it?” Benedict struggled to his feet. “You just leave me with the skirt and go back to your high and mighty life?”

“Mr. Prentiss, you should sit before you fall down.” Kate moved to intercept the man and put a hand on his arm. This time she applied more than a little pressure and he sat immediately. “I’ll get you some water and your car will be along directly.”

Richard stood in the doorway to his office, his face an unreadable mask. The phone on her desk rang and Kate didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was the call he expected. When Richard made no move to return to her office, she answered and asked the princess if they could reschedule the call.

Kate remained standing, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably. The older Prentiss mumbled something, but his son said nothing in response.

Security finally arrived and the two men helped Benedict to his feet—he seemed familiar with both. One of the pair glanced past her to Richard. “Our apologies, Mr. Prentiss. We have a new man on the front desk and he didn’t realize protocol.”

Richard’s gaze never left his father. “Please send a memo around to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The security guard nodded and they hustled Benedict out. After they closed the door, Richard glanced at her. “Cancel my five o’clock call. I think I’ll have that break since we just rescheduled Frankie.”

Kate nodded, she approved but had to maintain her professional demeanor. An assistant wasn’t a bodyguard, but her first priority remained his safety—even from himself. “Absolutely, Mr. Prentiss. Can I get you anything else?”

“No and skip the coffee. I’m awake now.” His tone made a lie of the words, but he retreated to his office and closed the door.

Kate waited until the light on her phone indicated he was already returning the call to Francesca Grace before pulling out her cell. Dialing a ten-digit number, she waited for the tones to answer and then put in her code. Twenty seconds later a secure operator came on the line. “This is Braddock. I need an expedited background on Prentiss, Benedict, and any open cases, warrants, or judgments.”

“Standby.” Phone sitting in the cradle of her shoulder, Kate returned to her desk and checked the camera she’d put in Richard’s office. The angle was decent and he had a phone pressed to his ear and his mouth moved indicating he spoke, but his head was back and his eyes closed. Shrinking the window and moving it to the upper right hand corner of her screen, she pulled up the word program and typed in the letters while she waited.

“No open cases or warrants. Several judgments dating back to the mid-80s including three indictments for Ponzi schemes, jail time served from 1989 to 1994, released on parole. Divorced in 1990. Two children from the marriage—Richard Prentiss, attorney, and Barbara, an actress based in London. No close ties to family and at least one, no, make that three open restraining orders.”

“From?”

“The children and the ex-wife.”

“Understood. Wipe the request, authorization four-alpha-foxtrot-four-two.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I help you with anything else?”

“No.” She hung up, rescheduled his five o’clock call, finished the last letter, and printed them. Her cell phone rang—Peterson’s name and face flashed up from the screen—and she checked the monitor before answering. “Braddock.”

“You put in a request for background information on Benedict Prentiss?” Clipped disapproval hung between every word. Of course, he’d receive notification of every request, even if she had them wiped.

“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t expected the man to put in an appearance, and she needed more information to make sure she did her job effectively. One day at the office, and she’d already realized that she didn’t know near enough about Prentiss’s colleagues, clients, and daily interactions. The man headed a law firm with more than two dozen other attorneys.

“He’s not involved, leave it alone.” Peterson didn’t try to explain it.

“Okay, maybe not with the issue at hand, sir, but—”

“Braddock, your assignment is to keep Mr. Prentiss secure. We already know everything we need to about his father. Leave it alone. That’s an order.”

“Of course, sir.” But Peterson had already disconnected the call. Kate pursed her lips. The chain of command existed for a reason—but she was on this assignment alone for the most part. Playing a part was one thing, but protecting him and playing the part required she think ahead. Miranda Keen had provided her with a great deal of information on how to manage Richard’s schedule, and his health since apparently he didn’t pay as much attention to it as he should.

Classic workaholic.
Still, it seemed obtuse to think the only threats to him came from his association with the royal family. Better to be thorough and wrong, than overlook the real threat.

Checking Richard on the monitor, she reached for the phone on her desk and dialed security. “Good afternoon, this is Kate Braddock in Mr. Prentiss’s office. We need to conduct a full review of the security protocols governing visitors to the building in general and Mr. Prentiss’s floor in particular.”

One eye on the screen, she waited to be connected to the head of security. The upgrades couldn’t wait and she’d have to apply a little judicious pressure to get the changes she wanted in place before Richard arrived in the office the next day.

He was far too exposed here.

* * *

Instead of thirty minutes, she gave Richard an hour. He’d abandoned his desk and stretched out on the sofa in his oversized office. Shutting off his phone from her desk took three commands. The man’s previous PA had a rigid set of useful protocols in place and the detail sheet she’d provided included tips on some of Richard’s habits. Switching screens, Kate pulled up a web browser and keyed in the address for a local dress shop.

Finding a dress, shoes and accessories set she liked, she put in a phone call and ordered everything in her size. An extra fee hired a messenger to run it down to the building. Fortunately, she’d been born lucky—store sizes fit exactly as they were supposed to if she stuck to similarly styled outfits. In this case, an off the shoulder sheath that would hit her at mid-thigh. She’d found the invitation for the six-thirty event, two blocks over at a very nice corporate ballroom. Private security would handle admittance and they would have metal detectors. She had a license to carry, but she’d have to leave her gun in the car safe if she didn’t want to have to explain the weapon to her protectee. He was far too sharp to just accept on face value she happened to carry a .45.

Mace would be more easily accepted and so would a taser. After all, she was a single woman and lived in a big city.

It would be so much easier if Richard were aware of her assignment, but she’d simply have to muddle through and be creative. Reviewing the rest of Richard’s calendar, she checked every event they were scheduled to attend and changed his RSVP on the charity dinner for Thursday to a yes and included a plus one. By the time the messenger arrived, she’d given Richard another twenty minutes to sleep. According to the delightful Miranda’s notes, he kept clean shirts, ties and at least one tuxedo in a closet in the private bathroom off his office.

Locking her outer office door and advising the receptionist to divert all but the most pressing of calls to the answering service, Kate changed in her office and used a small mirror to touch up her makeup. Her cell phone buzzed at the ten-minute mark and she checked the message—an advertisement for a twenty percent off deal on all sales made after 6:00 p.m. and before 10:00 p.m.

Familiar with the code, she dialed in then waited.

“He wants to see you this evening,” Peterson answered without preamble. “With a report.”

“It’ll be late. We have an event to attend and a meeting afterward.” She kept her gaze on the surveillance camera. Richard was still asleep, an arm slung across his eyes.

“Understood. Call when you’re on your way and come up to the security station.”

“Yes, sir.” They ended the call and Kate took the last few minutes to open the top drawer on her desk halfway, then secured a gun with tape. No bullet in the chamber meant she would need three seconds to get the bullet loaded, but she wanted the backup. Certain no one else would notice it without deliberately looking, she locked the drawer then got her evening bag ready along with a work case and stacked in the letters for Richard to sign.

Letting herself into his office, she knocked quietly on the open door. In her experience, most men didn’t like to be woken by a stranger and, despite their six-hour acquaintance, she remained the stranger in the situation. Richard’s arm moved away from his eyes and he turned his head.

“You’re ready.” Displeasure echoed in the drowsy statement. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “I said thirty minutes.”

“I gave you an hour. I had the dress in the car,” she lied easily enough. “I’d forgotten about going to the cleaners. If you want to change, I can make you a cup of coffee and we can go over any notes before we leave.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face then nodded, his easy charm muted by sleep and deep thought. He needed a hell of a lot more than just the hour of sleep he’d taken. “Thank you. Excuse me.”