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Tango

Page 48

by Fiona Quinn

Ethan scowled harder.

Nephew seemed to realize what he was saying. “She wouldn’t have to die. She could break a leg or get … What is that thing? Hip dysplasia. Or when their stomach twists around –well, she’d die of that. So maybe a leg injury would put her out of commission, then all that training is down the drain.”

“Sir, it took me two years of special forces training to get my skill set. And when Uncle Sam pointed his finger, off I’d go jumping out of an airplane behind enemy lines with every expectation that I’d die. But the U.S. military invested in my training anyway.”

“I understand that what I just said was insensitive. I’m not going to apologize because surely other people bring it up all the time. I mean, look at the royals what do they say, ‘heir and a spare?’ So even they know that life is fragile.”

Actually, no one had ever said something like that to him. “Yes, sir. Life is fragile.”

Mrs. Harcourt Swain squared her shoulders back. “I want him on the Alabaster security team, Ethan and Tango,” she said, looking from man to man around the table.

“Mom,” Nephew said.

“Brandon,” she matched his tone, and now Ethan knew three names. “We can use Ethan and Tango tomorrow for the lunch. We’ll both be there. We can see how he does.” She turned to Ethan. “I think you’ll be superlative.”

“We have our close protection in the cars driving us,” Brandon said.

Mrs. Harcourt-Swain’s face grew dark. “And so did Amanda. I want to see how Ethan uses the dog.” She turned to Ethan. “Ethan, we’re meeting Rowly-McBrayer Wealth Group, coming in from London. Iniquus will be providing their security. You obviously already have a foot in the door with that organization.”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Our drivers will be with the cars, as Brandon said. You will be the only close protection—"

“Mom.”

She turned Brandon’s way. “I have already spoken to the head of security, and he’s aware of and approves this plan.” She turned back to Ethan. “I want you to coordinate with Iniquus and develop your plan for guarding us while we eat, being unobtrusive, and keeping things smooth.” Then, she turned over the paper she’d looked at after searching for his E6 salary and slid it across the table to Ethan.

Ethan turned it over and saw that it was a job offer, with a title and compensation.

He would be grateful for steady income. It was generous. Double what he was making in the military. And he’d get medical; that was a bonus.

Ethan tapped the words “Tango payment.” And looked up.

“My understanding is that you were contracted, but your dog was not. I also asked about a reward; they said something about giving rewards puts the protectees at greater risk. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Someone who finds themselves in a bind might feel like they have no other choice but to do something that is out of character. So they might set up a fake kidnapping, then swoop in to save the protectee to gain a reward. Take away the chance of a reward, you’ve taken away the temptation.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Harcourt-Swain pressed a hand to her chest. “Well. Yes. I can see that, I suppose.” She looked straight at her son as she said in a voice dripping with accusation, “Sometimes temptation is difficult to resist.” She turned back to Ethan and forced a smile. “Yet, I feel that, in my sister-in-law’s absence, something must be done. What about a retro scholarship or some such for Tango? You tell me how much her training was, and that’s her reward. Not yours.”

“Ma’am, she was trained by Cerberus Tactical ...” Ethan thought the differentiation between rewarding him or rewarding Tango was semantics. He’d take that offer back to Pickeridge and see what he thought.

“Best in the world, yes, I know. I imagine it’s an enormous bill. We have, on occasion, used Iniquus. Golden ethics and work. Also golden bottom line. Believe me, I signed the checks.”

“That’s a generous offer, ma’am.”

“It’s my brother Lionel’s idea. That’s Amanda’s husband.” She slapped her hands on the table. “Done deal. You dig up the receipts. Add them up. I trust you. No reason to hand any of that to me.” She focused on a woman, hovering in the corner with a pad and pen. “He’ll get you a number. You cut him a check.”

“Make sure when you calculate the check that you have the CPA figure out how much the taxes would be on it,” Brandon said. “Ethan here is a golden boy who would never think of stiffing the government.”

Ethan scowled. Was this guy insinuating that they all did? Of course they did. The monied always had a way of dodging and dancing. All strictly legal, just not strictly ethical in his view. But he had to keep those kinds of thoughts to himself because the people who knew the loopholes were the people who wrote his paychecks.

He’d had to grapple with the ethics of money since the military, knowing the men who wanted his life on the line were the same men lining their pockets with the war effort.

Ethan felt better about things before the wink-and-nod and the mention of taxes.

It would be a windfall to have Tango’s bills paid. And a steady job for them was the goal.

“Ethan.” Mrs. Harcourt-Swain stood and extended her hand across the table. “I’ll have Owen take you down and introduce you to the head of executive security, Tom Baxter, and he’ll get you situated. If you sign with us, you’ll be doing executive protection. Lots of travel. Exotic locations.”