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Prologue
“C’MON, MAN. YOU KNOW I don’t do this kind of work anymore.”
“I thought you were the king of personal security?” Grayson Fortescue’s droll tone hid a rising surge of panic, a tenor that would have gone undetected by almost anyone. But Noah Storm wasn’t just anyone, and he knew Grayson better than most. Which was why the request from one of the world’s richest men had Noah stopping in his tracks.
“I presume you’ve handed this matter over to the police?”
“Of course, my security has informed the local jurisdictions. And after a six-month investigation, they’ve drawn a blank. No one knows who this guy is, nor how the hell he stays one step ahead of the army of security I’ve already engaged, but he does, and he’s getting closer.” Silence fell as Gray went quiet, leaving only the distant droning of Manhattan’s traffic to fill Noah’s office.
“Closer how?”
“This morning, he slashed Max’s car.”
“The tyres?” Noah prompted with a frown.
“No. The leather interior. Somehow the prick got into a secured garage, her Mercedes, all without setting off a single alarm. Forensics are going over the scene now, but so far, they’ve drawn a blank. Not a fingerprint, a hair, a bead of sweat.”
Noah compressed his lips, professional instincts firing to life. Such careful execution of an attack was definitely a bad sign. There were crimes of passion, attacks motivated by spur-of-the-moment opportunity – and these events left tell-tale detritus. Clues. Evidence. But a perfectly enacted contact such as this spoke of a chilling level of ability and planning.
“It’s my sister, Noah.” Grayson’s words were raw, heavy with the weight of his responsibilities, and they reached right into Noah’s heart. He knew what it was like to lose a sister; he knew the pain of not having done enough to protect her. “I need your help to keep her safe.”
But Noah hadn’t done personal security in a long time. He preferred to pull the levers of his company, overseeing security arrangements of one of the top agencies in America from his office in New York.
“I can organize my top guy…”
“You’re the top guy, the only one I trust. It has to be you.”
Noah stared out of his window, his symmetrical face held in a mask of tension. With a jaw that was carved by granite, his face was angular and determined, every inch of him in command at all times.
“Ever since we started appearing in that bloody Scott Gazette Rich List we’ve had to deal with this kind of thing, but this is a whole new level. It’s madness. I’m really worried for her, Noah.”
Noah sighed heavily. “I get it. But there must be security firms in the UK who can handle this? People already on the ground?”
“They’re not you. I need the best.”
Noah was silent, processing that.
“I’d offer you all the money in the world, but I know that’s not what motivates you. So tell me what I have to do to convince you?”
Noah ground his teeth together, frustration whipping at the base of his spine. They both knew the answer to that: Noah owed Grayson his life. If Grayson needed a favour now, then Noah would deliver on it.
“Does she know how I work?”
“No. But she’s scared. She’ll cooperate.”
“If I’m doing security for someone, I take charge of their whole damned life, Gray. Every iota of their life. It’s the only way I can do my job.”
“She’ll hate it,” Gray admitted with a humourless laugh. “But she’ll accept it, because Max is a pragmatist and she doesn’t want to die. She’s scared, not that she’d admit it. When can you be here?”
Noah spun away from the window and began to stride towards the door. “I’ll get the red-eye.”
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“But you tell your sister that I’m in charge. If she wants my protection, she has to do what I say. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. See you in the morning.”
Chapter 1
“ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO DAMNED way.”
Maxine Fortescue’s eyes were the most striking shade of green, like the froth of the ocean on the silver sands of the beach on a blustery afternoon. They moved with icy disdain from the figure of her brother, Grayson, to his best friend Noah, an accusation in the line of her features as she shook her head. Her face was pale, her lips rimmed with white as she compressed them in a visible indication of tension.
“You didn’t tell her I was coming?” Noah folded his arms over his chest – a broad chest that, even through the good quality cotton of his button-down shirt showed well-defined pectorals. He was aware of Max’s gaze dropping instinctively, before firing back to his eyes.
“I told her we’d need to change up the arrangements,” Gray responded with an indolent shrug.
“I thought you meant a review of our existing security.” Max reached for a button on her p
hone and pressed it. A moment later, a woman appeared, dressed in a black pencil skirt and cream silk blouse, her dark hair pinned into a sleek bun at her neck.
The tension lifted for a moment and Maxine smiled. “Good morning, Rachel.”
“Max.” The woman’s nod was the last word in efficiency. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Thirty, actually,” Maxine responded in the same droll tone her brother used when he wanted to deflect attention from the seriousness of his mood. “Or one very, very strong one.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Gray?” Her gaze travelled back to Noah’s face. “And I’m sorry, what did you say your name is?”
He bit back a sarcastic smile, because it was such an obvious play. He knew, from the research he’d conducted on the flight over, that she was far too brilliant, focused and professional to have forgotten his name.
“Noah.”
“Right. Noah Storm,” she drawled his last name with a hint of cynicism, as though he’d made up the moniker.
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I’ll take a black coffee,” he turned to face the brunette. “Thank you, Rachel.”
He hadn’t intended to make a point, to show that remembering names was a simple courtesy, but a hint of colour fired in Max’s cheek anyway.
“I know you and my brother are friends,” she softened her tone with obvious effort, apparently trying a different tack. “And if we were meeting under any other circumstances, I’d be delighted to know more about you. But this has been a ridiculously crazy twenty-four hours and I’m tired, and irritated, and frankly sick of being told what to do. I understand you’re worried,” she pivoted back to Gray. “But I’m under control. This guy, whoever he is, hasn’t really got close to me. I know the car thing is…new,” she said, only the way she pressed her fingers into the surface of her desk, so hard the tips of her nails went white, betraying the anxiety behind her casually-delivered explanation. “It just means I have to change things up a bit. I’m in Paris tomorrow, anyway.”
“And so might he be,” Grayson responded flatly. “I’m sorry, Max, this is non-negotiable.”
Anger whipped around the room, unmistakable. “Says who? You don’t get to decide this unilaterally.”
“You need protection, and I can’t do it. I can’t keep you safe.” Gray strode towards the desk, moving around it in three easy steps and putting his hands on Maxine’s forearms, turning her to face him. “I have tried. I have hired different security firms, bought new monitoring equipment, everything I can think of, but the truth is, I just can’t catch this son of a bitch.”
“And he can?” She challenged.
The door opened again as Rachel returned carrying a tray with three coffees and a plate of biscuits. Noah moved towards the door on autopilot, catching it to hold it open for her. Her eyes flicked over him with an obviously assessing glint – a response he was used to. At thirty four years of age, he was familiar with the effect he had on women, an affect he’d started to notice and appreciate as a boy of just sixteen. He knew it would take very little to charm Rachel, to wrap her around his little finger until she was eating out of the palm of his hand. If he were so inclined. But he wasn’t.
This wasn’t a pleasure trip, it was business, and Gray needed Noah to make this work.
