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“Believe me,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes. “I only came on the property to find Ms. Meyer. But since she’s away, could I use you as a contact person? I need someone on the inside I can trust to report Rogue’s movements to. If he gets on the property, I’ll alert you and you can bring your security guy in to handle him.”
“How long do you think it’ll take you to catch him?” she asked.
“Hours, if he makes a mistake. A couple days if he doesn’t,” Jackal said, a smug look descending on his face. “I’m patient. And patience is success.”
She nodded, an uncertainty coming over her as she stared at him. Maybe she should tell Ryder about this. It was a situation where she felt out of her depth. But then Jackal’s eyes shifted and his shoulders drooped.
“Please. I have to prove my innocence. It’s the only way—” His gaze drifted away again.
He looked lost, and something about a man having his purpose ripped away struck her right in the feels.
“I’ll be your contact,” she said, and nodded at him to pull out his phone as she did hers. She read out her Cavendish phone number, and he entered it in his outdated phone, another thing that made her feel bad. It had to suck going from high-tech to might-as-well-be-no tech.
“I promise I won’t do anything unless he gets onto the property. If either of them does, I’ll text you the details. You can send in your security guy in, or play it however you want to. Otherwise, you won’t hear or see me again,” he promised. “But if Ms. Meyer comes back, please let me know.”
She nodded. He moved away, then paused.
“I don’t think you should mention our meeting to anyone,” Jackal said. “I wouldn’t want anything to take the focus off the engagement.”
“I won’t say anything unless you text,” she agreed. If she didn’t hear from him, then mentioning this meeting would be pointless. But secrets were the Cavendish way, and if keeping his meant he had the freedom to catch Rogue and Lawrence in a trap, all the better.
With a nod of gratitude, Jackal disappeared into the bush across the street, his low hulking form merging with the shadows.
It may be dumb, but not telling Ryder about the encounter with Jackal gave her a feeling of superiority. And a bit of distance.
As she stepped on the accelerator and steered the cart up the road to the English Manor, she thought about Jackal hunting Rogue and Lawrence. He was right about not involving the law. Too many senators, heads of states, and royalty kept their kinky secrets at Cavendish. They weren’t active clients at the moment, but Mags’s super model engagement would surely open the floodgates to repeat business. Having police poking around would keep everybody away, not to mention put their entire business model in jeopardy.
As she pulled into the tree-lined driveway to the manor, she mulled over Jackal’s words and it reminded her of one thing.
The rutted driveway gave way to gravel, and the magnificent English Manor rose into view. The golden dawn had frittered to gray light, but the building looked majestic despite it. She pulled the cart onto the path that took her behind the Manor, pulling out her phone once she’d parked.
Just a thought. Did you repair the fence breach?she texted Ryder. She watched the screen, but when the wordSentdidn’t immediately change toRead, she tucked her phone away. She’d done her bit.
In the safety of her office, Nita opened her laptop and logged in. She dug down into the employee files and opened Jackal’s.
He’d been with Cavendish for just over a year, having been hired when the entire security staff had left after the previous owners decided to sell. Everything she could access about his work performance was positive. And even though Hartley had fired him, his file noted he was laid off.
“Hartley must have backed off,” she murmured out loud, clicking through another document. Jackal was his code name, but his full name was Karol F. Hardt. She was curious what the F stood for. He was originally born in Belarus, moved to New York with a previous job listed as bouncer at some nightclub in the Bronx. She clicked on the reference check document, but there weren’t many details. A few phone calls with messages left. A returned message asking to confirm some details. Boring. His criminal background check showed no crimes in New York or Washington State.
“More trustworthy than Ryder,” she murmured.
The only document left was his bio-haptics report. She hovered the mouse over it for a few seconds before she clicked to open it. She wasn’t breaking any rules, since Claire hadn’t purged his employee records like she should have. She sat up when she saw the summary.
“Predisposed to petite, younger women. Primary tendency to masturbation involving a second party. Secondary tendency to aggressive intercourse with verbal profanity/dirty talk. Sexual orientation 96% heterosexual,” she read out loud. “Huh. I would have thought the aggressive stuff would be primary, but what do I know?”
She closed his file just as her phone buzzed.
Looking down, she saw Ryder’s reply.
Fixed, it read. She waited to see if he’d type anymore, but he didn’t.
She hovered her fingers over the screen, then cursed herself for wanting to engage with him. Everything was running smoothly. She’d keep busy working on Mags’s engagement and hopefully her Ryder-lust would wear down to almost nothing.
But of course, she kept imagining “aggressive intercourse” with him, which did nothing to help her concentrate.
25
Ryder shoved his phone back in his pocket and sorted through the cobwebbed tool bag. He didn’t feel bad about lying that he’d already fixed the fence. It would be the truth, if he could just find a fucking tool that was useful.
