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"Two hundred and fifty thousand," Tyra grimaces. "I obviously didn't pay him. I don't care about the photos. He can sell them to whoever he wants. I'm sure you remember I was the lead in that movie based on that wonderfully smutty book. It left little to the imagination. I'm pretty sure more people've seen my boobs than haven't, and me being gay is already old news."
"What did the police and your investigators say?" Em asks.
"The police aren't saying much, but the investigators I hired say Randy is desperate for cash. We tried to track the account number he wanted me to deposit the money into, and that's where things got really weird."
"What kind of weird?" I ask because, really, how much worse can this get?
"It's an account that belongs to a drug dealer associated with the Sanchez family."
"As in the Sanchez drug cartel?" Em shrieks, eyes going wide. "What the actual fuck is happening?"
"We knew Randy had a drug problem."
"A drug problem is when you're addicted to coke or meth, or prescription drugs or something. It's not sending money to the most dangerous drug cartel in the world. Jesus Christ, I've officially left reality and am living in one of your movies, Tyra." Em is edging on hysteria, but I stay silent. My hands tighten into fists. I want to punch a hole through the wall and destroy something. Instead, I sit down and breathe, attempting to keep my cool.
"The team I hired thinks Randy needs the cash to pay the cartel, or more specifically, Pablo Sanchez. These investigators are the best in the business; the more digging they do, the more they find. Randy's been making and receiving payments for the last three years. We think he's been running drugs for the cartel and keeping some for himself. But drug lords know when the product goes missing, and that's why we think he was stealing from me. If Randy's missed his payment, we're probably not the only ones looking for him."
"A drug lord has sent henchmen to Toronto to locate or maybe kill Randy Johnson?" I ask incredulously.
"It's a strong possibility," Tyra says grimly. She puts her face in her hands. She can't believe this shit, either. This shouldn't happen to ordinary people. "Randy took trips across the border all the time, but I assumed he was either working or taking holidays. I didn't think he was a drug mule!" I run my hands through my hair, making it stand on end. This is fucking crazy.
Bat. Shit. Crazy.
"If I had to guess, I think Randy tried to break into your apartment to look for cash or something to blackmail you with," Tyra says solemnly.
"Well, he's shit out of luck," Em replies, letting out a strained laugh. "There's nothing here. Holly already did the blackmail thing a few months ago with our old boss, and Ryan and I don't have any racy pictures or sex tapes."
"I didn't think so," Tyra grins despite the situation. "But, until this is over and Randy is caught, I would like to hire you a bodyguard."
"What?" Em squeaks out. "Is that really necessary?"
"Yes," Tyra and I say in unison.
"This is my fault," Tyra states. "Randy is my problem. I should have fired him ages ago. But for some twisted reason, he thinks you're responsible for his current situation, and he's projected all his anger on you instead of me. I hope it's not necessary, and we're being over-cautious, but I would rather be safe than sorry."
"Tyra's right, Em. Randy is fucked in the head. There's no telling what he'll do." I take Em's hand in mine. I know she doesn't want this, but I need her to agree. I need to know she's safe when I can't be with her. "Please, Em. Let Tyra hire the bodyguard. I can't be with you twenty-four hours a day, and I won't be able to concentrate on anything if I don't know you're safe."
"Fine," Em sighs, rubbing her temples. "How does this work? Will he, or she, just show up and follow me around?"
Tyra stays a little longer, giving us the name and number of the security company providing Em with protection. Em has a bodyguard lined up within an hour for at least the rest of the week. He will be travelling with us to Boston and tailing her wherever she goes. His name is Colton Moore. He's a former soldier from the Canadian Armed Forces, with a specialty in tracking targets and keeping his assets safe. He's never lost a client, and we are assured he is the best man available for the job.
Tyra also calls to add surveillance for our building and the SASS offices and extra protection for herself. By the time we head to bed, I feel slightly better. Randy can't run and hide forever. Eventually, he will make a mistake, and the police will catch him. Then this nightmare will finally be over, and Em and I can return to being a normal couple and just focus on work, hockey, and having a future together.
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Avery
Colton Moore is one of the biggest men I have ever seen, which is saying something coming from a woman who works with hockey players and has two hulking athletes for brothers. He's at least six-foot-five, two-hundred-forty pounds, and has the thickest quad muscles I have ever seen.
He's built like a brick shit house, as my dad would say. A young, good-looking, brick shit house.
He is also one of the nicest men I've met and a complete contradiction of physical form and charming personality.
I'm a hair girl. I love a good flow, but Colton's short crop perfectly suits him. He has dark red hair, and if he grew it out, I would bet my right ass cheek it would be curly. His eyes are a startling pale blue, sharp with intelligence, and he sports a reddish, well-trimmed beard.
When Colton first stood in our doorway, Holly and I thought the same thing.Did this guy just walk off the set of Outlander? He's a Gorgeous Ginger Giant.
Although I'm not keen on having a bodyguard, I have to admit, having him around makes me feel just a litter safer than I did before. There is no way Randy would be able to get through Colton. Unless he has a bulldozer.
