“It was just for a sequence of events. She’s attending a wedding. But I was thinking lately about the team and how we could offer protection services on an as-needed basis.”
“Contract bodyguards. Makes sense to me.”
“Not just bodyguards. Background checks. Logistics. Extra security. The specific services could be customized to the requirements of the job.”
“You must have connections still with the fancy people.”
“I worked for a few. Farah’s mother might give us a recommendation or two. The thing is that I don’t want to be in anyone’s pocket again.”
“It just means they own you and you get jerked around.”
Pierce nodded. “But contract work could be an ideal compromise.” He flicked a glance at Jimmy, who was grinning.
“But you need to build that team. Can I jump onboard first?”
“I’m not sure what the money will be like at first,” Pierce felt he had to warn him. “I’m not even sure it’ll happen. It might not be feasible...”
“Go ahead. Cross your t’s and dot your i’s,” Jimmy said, then poked Pierce in the shoulder. “Research all the eventualities and make your plans. But call me first.”
“Let me contact Rodrigo and see if he’s willing to book with me before you quit your job or anything like that.”
“Where would you be based?”
“Here, I guess,” Pierce said. “But the team could be scattered, especially at first. Eventually, we’ll want to choose a location.”
“Probably east coast, and a major hub like Manhattan,” Jimmy said. “Easier for international flights.”
“Easier for anonymity, too.”
“Bigger crowds to get lost in.” Jimmy nodded. “Seriously, Pierce, it’s exactly what I was hoping for when Mack said you were here and wanted to meet.”
“I could have just wanted to see you.”
“You could have, and that would have been great, but this is way better. I feel like I’ve been waiting on it for ten years.”
“Don’t quit your job yet,” Pierce said again. “You have others to think about.”
“I know, I know, and a mortgage, but Pierce. Wow. Let’s do it.”
“Wish me luck talking to Rodrigo. He never liked anyone turning him down and he might hold a grudge.”
Jimmy gave him a long slow look. “So, why talk to him at all? Farah’s an adult now.”
Pierce blinked. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Jimmy said with a grin. “Talk to the princess. Let’s do this thing.”
Ten
On Monday night, Jacquie went down to the kickboxing studio and took on all comers, just like usual. She told herself she wasn’t watching for Pierce, that she hadn’t been looking for him all day, but when she turned at ten to find him leaning in the doorway, her knees went weak.
How could that be? She shouldn’t be susceptible to his presence any longer. She shouldn’t be tingling just at the sight of him, and her heart had no cause to be skipping beats. But Pierce stood in the doorway, his eyes brilliantly green, that little smile lifting the corner of his mouth, and it was all Jacquie could do to keep from flinging herself at him.
He did have superpowers.
The only thing she discovered from Pierce’s membership record at F5F was that he lived near the High Line, probably in one of those new apartments overlooking the park. It couldn’t be eight blocks from the club.
What she had realized in two days, though, was that she’d missed him—or the prospect of seeing him. She told herself that her reaction was entirely physical.
Even she suspected that wasn’t the whole story.
“Hi,” he said and she was disappointed that he’d already changed to his street clothes. He was wearing his glasses and looked serious as a result.
“I was looking for you today,” she admitted. “I wanted to thank you again.”
“You’re welcome again.” He nodded toward her gloves. “How are they?”
Jacquie held up her hands, showing off her new red gloves. “They’re undefeated. Another reason to thank you.”
“That smile is good enough.” He tossed an orange into the air and caught it. “I’d throw you one, but you won’t be able to catch it with the gloves on.” He bent down to put it on the floor against the wall. “I’ll just leave it here.”
“No, don’t.” Jacquie unlaced her gloves as she walked toward him, not wanting him to leave just yet. Pierce straightened, watching her. Jacquie smiled. “Is there a reason you’re bringing me an orange?”
“This isn’t just an orange,” he said solemnly, holding it up between them. “This is a freshly picked—and picked fully ripened, at its prime—navel orange from Riverside, California, of the Washington heritage variety.”
“I don’t know that much about oranges,” Jacquie admitted, pausing in front of him. She was close enough to see his eyes twinkle.
“Then this one will blow your mind.” He placed it in her hand with a flourish.
“That’s been done recently. I doubt the orange will top it.”
Pierce chuckled.
Jacquie could smell the sweetness of it even through the skin. “How did you get it?” she asked, fully expecting him to evade the question.
“It was sent to me by overnight courier.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Every year, no matter where I am, I get a box. Twenty pounds of fresh oranges.”
A confession.
“From Riverside, California,” Jacquie guessed.
Pierce nodded. “Two varieties. The Washington navels, a variety first imported from Brazil in 1870 and sent to Riverside, California, where all trees of that variety are descendants of those first two trees.”
“Really?”
“Really. They don’t have many seeds. They have to be grafted and not every tree that results produces good fruit.”
“You know a lot about oranges.” And he was talking an incredible amount. Jacquie didn’t want him to stop.
“Yes,” Pierce agreed without elaborating. “The second variety in the box is the Cara-cara, discovered in Venezuela in 1976, a variant of the navel orange that has a ruby tinge to its flesh and is known for its sweetness.”
“Why those two kinds?” Since he was in a talkative mood, even one she couldn’t explain, Jacquie would ask questions.
Was he trying to meet her halfway?
Was that why she felt so flattered?
Pierce took
