“I run a security firm, Sentinel Security Group.” I dug a couple of business cards out of my wallet and handed one to each of them. “We’ve been providing elite bodyguard services, along with event security for Summer’s industry, for over thirty years. I’ve been with Sentinel for almost twenty years, and I took the company over from my uncle last year. I’ve worked for Brody many times over the years…”
Summer strode into the room and I faded off. She wore a loose, billowy silk jumper, midnight-blue, with her hair in a loose bun on top of her head and a little makeup on. Fresh-faced and lovely.
“Mom!” She threw out her arms as her parents got to their feet to greet her.
I stood up, too.
“Summer, sweetie.” Her mom took her in a tight hug, then released her.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, giving her dad a hug. He gave her a tight squeeze, then kissed her on the forehead.
“Princess,” he said. “You didn’t tell us about the bodyguard.”
“Or the break-in,” her mom scolded gently.
“It wasn’t a break-in,” Summer said firmly. “He tried to break in, but he failed. The police came. They brought a dog unit. It was fucking amazing.” She headed into the kitchen, pulling out coffee mugs.
Joanne pressed a hand to her chest. “Summer. My goodness. Why didn’t you tell us about all this?”
“The dog caught him,” Summer said lightly but matter-of-factly. “The police arrested him. Brody came and Ronan came.” She laid out sugar and cream on the bar with the mugs, then pressed her hands flat on the bar, staring her parents down. “I’ve got security now. As you can see.” She nodded at me, and her parents looked at me again. “Ronan’s extremely good at his job. He’s a mixed martial arts trainer. He takes no shit, even from me, and he keeps me safe. You do not need to worry about me.”
Gunnar made a disagreeable sound in his throat, and Joanne elbowed him again. Then she drifted over to the bar and sat down across from Summer. “Sweetie. How could we not worry?”
“Simple. You just don’t. There’s no need. Would you guys like some homemade scones? Carissa brought them yesterday, and you know I don’t do empty calories.” She went to the cupboard to get plates.
“Sure, baby,” her mom said. “Let me help.” She got up to help Summer, needlessly, with putting scones out on the bar and pouring coffee.
I stayed where I was, standing in the living room a few feet from her father. I slipped my hands in my pockets, trying to do the invisible-security-guy routine, as Summer’s mom fussed over her in the kitchen and her dad kept eying me.
I wondered if they always called her “princess” and “sweetie,” or if this was a post-attempted-break-in outpouring of love and parental guilt.
I wondered at which point I should leave them to some privacy.
“Really, Mom,” Summer said. “Stop fussing. I’m completely safe.”
On that note, her dad turned to me and said, “And what, exactly, are you doing to keep my daughter safe?”
Summer met my eyes. And for once, she didn’t have a sassy quip to offer. She just bit her lip and raised her eyebrows at me.
That look seemed to say Please help, or Don’t fuck this up.
I wasn’t sure which.
“Why don’t I show you, sir?” I offered, nodding toward the front door.
Gunnar glanced at his daughter, who smiled a little. Then he made a little grudging noise of agreement in the back of his throat and went to put his shoes on.
Summer mouthed Thank you at me.
I nodded and led her dad out the front door.
I took my time showing Summer’s father around the exterior of the house. I figured Summer and her mom would appreciate the alone time for girl talk. And her dad, despite the polished loafers and baby-blue argyle dress socks, definitely seemed like the hands-on type. The I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it-with-my-own-damn-eyes type.
So I took him around and personally showed him the alarm system. The new locks on the doors and the high-security keys. The new motion sensor lights I’d had installed around the yard.
Along the way, I fielded a barrage of questions about my experience, my company, my business partners, my employees, my special skills training, and even the neighborhood where I grew up. Summer’s father seemed particularly interested in knowing about my father, and at that point I steered the conversation toward my uncle, who was way more impressive both on paper and in real life.
In the side yard, Gunnar came to a stop next to the fence. He put his hand on the new post I’d put in. I hadn’t had a chance to stain it to match the others yet.
“What happened here?” he said gruffly.
“There was a rotten fence post there.”
He eyed me. “I know there was a rotten fence post.”
“I replaced it.”
He examined the post, checking out my work. “You did this yourself?”
“I did. Bodyguard duty can be… a little dry,” I explained. “Especially when your daughter’s locked in her studio for hours at a time. I like to keep busy.”
He bent down to inspect the fence some more. Then he straightened, eying me again. He slipped his hands in his pockets and gazed up at the house.
“This attempted break-in,” he said. “Was that the whole story you gave my wife and I inside? Or was there more to it?”
“Like what?” I asked.
He gave me a narrow look that told me he could smell bullshit a mile away. “Is my daughter keeping anything else from me?”
“I think she really meant it when she said she wants you not to worry about her,” I said. Out of respect for Summer, I wanted to honor her privacy.
But I also respected a man’s need to know his daughter was safe. And having to ask me for answers was probably frustrating as shit.
He made a grumpy hmph noise, and kept walking.
I escorted
