Chapter One
Mace
* * *
“Mace?”
I spin around in my desk chair to face Rachell. “Yeah?”
She’s leaning in the doorway. “There’s a woman here to see you. Says her name is Autumn. She looks…distraught.”
I frown. Autumn… The only Autumn I know is my old Army captain’s daughter. That seems unlikely since she just graduated from college in Indiana. Captain James Burke is a good guy. I’ve stayed in touch with him even though I now work in the private sector, and he retired two years ago.
I push to standing and follow Rachell to the reception area at the front of Black Blade Protection. Rachell is our hidden gem. She works at the entrance as if she’s nothing more than an entry-level receptionist. She even looks the part—pencil skirts, makeup, perfect hair. However, it would be in poor judgment for anyone to underestimate her. Like the rest of us working for Black Blade, she’s former military, and she could easily disarm five grown men in seconds.
As soon as I spot the woman who asked for me by name, my breath hitches. It’s definitely Captain Burke’s daughter, and she’s been crying. Her eyes are swollen and red. Whatever mascara she was wearing has been mostly wiped away, leaving a gray halo around huge green eyes. It looks as though she is going to burst into tears again any second now.
She looks exhausted, and my heart seizes. “Autumn?”
Her lips quiver, and new tears fall. She’s trembling. Based on how wrinkly her blouse and skirt are, I’d say she’s been wearing this professional outfit for more than one day. Dressed in a similar way to Rachell, her navy skirt is tight and short; her lavender blouse is wrinkly. She has navy heels on. Her auburn hair is in a bun at the back of her neck, but several curls have escaped.
I set a hand on her shoulder and turn toward the hall. “Let’s go to my office.”
She hasn’t spoken yet, and she moves with me, remaining silent.
As soon as we step into my workspace, I close the door and point at the loveseat. “Would you like to sit? Can I get you some water?”
“No. Thank you.” She lowers onto the cushion gracefully, which doesn’t surprise me. Autumn has always been polished. Burke told me that even as a child, she was grown up. Burke calls her an old soul. I suppose he’s right.
I hadn’t noticed she was holding a large manila envelope until now. It was tucked under her arm, but she sets it on her lap after she drops her small purse on the seat next to her.
Something terrible has happened, and my heart is racing as I sit beside her. With my hand resting on the back of the sofa, I twist to face her.
She lowers her gaze. “My father is dead.”
My breath hitches.
A dam opens, and she cries in earnest, as if she’d been barely holding back sobs by a thread, which has now snapped. Her shoulders heave, and I scoot closer and wrap my arm around her, pulling her into my chest.
I’m a computer guy, so I’m not the largest man in this office by far, but I’m still big compared to Autumn. I’m six-two. I may not be as broad as Tank or Blade, but I’m fit. She’s about five-four and slight.
I let her cry against my white dress shirt. I don’t give a fuck that it’s getting wet and probably will have smudges of her makeup on it. After tucking my fingers into her loose bun, I hold her cheek to my chest. There’s a story here, but she needs to let out pent-up emotions before I start firing questions at her.
Eventually, she takes a deep breath and pulls back enough to sit up and wipe her eyes.
I twist to reach behind me for the box of tissues on the end table. Autumn isn’t the first person to cry in my office. Everyone at Black Blade Protection is used to dealing with all kinds of emotional issues. We get clients who are grieving every week.
“What happened?” I ask gently as I tug a few tissues out and hand them to her. Sorrow consumes me. Burke is—was—a good man. One of the best. He can’t be dead. He’s too young.
Autumn blows her nose and wipes her eyes. “Someone killed him. Poison.”
I stiffen. Burke? Who would murder him?
She turns to look at me, tears still streaking down her face. “When I got home last night, I found him on the floor in his office. Foam was coming out of his mouth. He was clutching his chest. I don’t know how I managed to get there before he died.”
“So, you spoke to him?”
She nods. “Yes. He grabbed my wrist, told me to get this envelope out of the safe, and come directly to you. He insisted that I not even pack. He wanted me to get out of the house immediately.”
