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He’d spent the next three days in hospital, having suffered a concussion from hitting his head during the car’s roll down the slope. He’d also broken the ulna of his right arm, on top of those many visible injuries to his face from where the windscreen had shattered as it rolled over and over down the hill until coming to a halt, upside down, at the bottom of the slope.
He was lucky the farmer had been trying to make an early start on his day; otherwise, Casper might have remained upside down in his car at the bottom of that hill until a member of his family became alarmed when they hadn’t heard from and found they couldn’t reach him on his cell phone either. Even if Casper hadn’t been knocked unconscious, and so was unable to call for help, his cell phone had been smashed and was no longer capable of receiving or making calls.
Once he was discharged from hospital, he'd spent the next four days recuperating at the family estate in Surrey.
Unlike the other men in his family, several of whom had been in the military, Casper kept his dark hair in an overlong style, revealing several shades of red amongst that darkness. His dark brown eyes looked full of a barely suppressed impatience with his own less-than-autonomous situation. High cheekbones, chiseled lips, along with the slight scruff on his jaw, all added to his piratical appearance. He wore a black tailored suit, but instead of wearing a formal shirt and tie beneath it, he had on a black T-shirt.
None of which detracted from the obvious bruising and cuts to his face or the sling immobilizing his right arm as he threw himself down into the chair in front of his brother Sinclair’s desk.
Casper stretched his long legs out in front of him as he turned and began to survey the other people in the room, three of whom were members of his family, the others being her and the other three bodyguards that made up the rest of her team.
“Why do I feel as if I’ve been ambushed?” Casper growled as he scowled at his two brothers and cousin.
“Possibly because you have,” Sinclair confirmed mildly.
The scowl deepened. “Why have I?”
“You know why.”
Casper huffed. “I seem to remember that I told you, when I was in the hospital and became aware enough to realize you had men standing guard outside my room day and night, that I won’t need a team of bodyguards going forward.”
Sinclair nodded, unperturbed by the aggression. “And I remember informing you that I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I was telling you. For fuck’s sake, someone messed with the brake lines on your car,” he snapped with uncharacteristic aggression when he obviously realized Casper was about to argue again. “Just enough so that the car would slowly lose power and eventually, far from where the sabotage occurred, the brakes would cease working altogether.”
His youngest brother shrugged. “I’m still alive.”
“But you so easily might not have been,” his brother Max put in harshly.
“I—”
“Stop arguing, Casper,” their cousin Adam rasped. “Whether you like it or not—”
“I don’t.”
“Too bad,” Adam dismissed. “Because you’re having a team of bodyguards twenty-four-seven until we discover who was responsible for almost killing you. It might not have happened at all if you had told us about the deliberate slashing of your tires, not once but three times, during the past couple of months, along with several deep scratches that had to be repaired and resprayed.” His glare was one of rebuke. “The repercussion from that silence is that you now have a team of bodyguards. Live with it.”
Instead of continuing to argue, Casper Kingston now fixed his narrowed and piercing gaze on her. He slowly straightened before sitting forward. “Who are you?” he challenged.
Not exactly an auspicious beginning!
“Casper!” Sinclair warned.
“It’s fine,” she assured him, not taking her gaze from Casper’s accusing one for a moment.
After all, she’d half been expecting Casper’s resentment toward anyone who agreed with his family’s assessment of him needing a bodyguard. As the youngest and only unmarried member of his family, Casper had always been something of a free spirit. At least he had been, which meant he wouldn’t easily accept having bodyguards not only protecting him but taking note of his every move.
His brows rose as he again demanded pointedly. “Well?”
“I’m Persy Jones,” she answered just as abruptly.
The three other members of the Kingston family were watching their exchange with varying emotions.
Sinclair looked mildly surprised at Casper’s aggression.
Max was frowning, possibly for the same reason.
Their cousin Adam looked both puzzled and curious.
She had worked with all three of these men during the four months she’d been employed at their family-owned firm, Kingston Security. She knew them all to be highly professional, but also friendly.
