Page 3 of Better Watch Out
“Francis, I’m sorry. We’re just in different places in our lives. You said you never wanted to leave Walton and—”
“I didn’t want to move toLondon, Calvin.” Her raised voice drew attention. “You said you wanted to come back to New York and I told you I’d move here if it’s what you wanted.”
“I’m returning to London. It’s where Gemma’s family is.”
Well, goodie for Gemma.
“I’m really sorry if I hurt you or made you believe there was more to us than—”
“Nope.” Frannie waved her hand as she started to step backward. “We had a good thing, but like you said, we’re in different places in our lives.”
“Francis.”
“I wish you the best, Calvin.”
Turning, Frannie hurried toward the elevators and pulled out her room key, anxious to get away from the man she’d given her hopes and dreams to. This wasnothow romantic holiday movies were supposed to go. Looking over her shoulder, a part of her hoped for that cinematic moment where she’d find Calvin watching her, contemplating whether he’d made the right decision and then realizing he couldn’t live without her … But he was gone.
Just like her dreams for a magical holiday in the city.
ChapterTwo
“Don’t get dead.”
Andrew Bishop glanced up at the newbie, Joseph Caruso, and shook his head. “We don’t need a slogan.” His attention dropped to his laptop, where he was working on the final notes of the protection detail the Defensemen Agency had been hired for.
“Come on, every good business needs a slogan.” Joey grabbed one of the hockey sticks from the bucket in the corner and hit a crumpled piece of paper on the floor, sending it forward a few feet.
“Pitiful.” Oskar Garin laughed. “Let me show you what a clapper looks like.” He grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and crumpled it in his palm. “First you need a proper biscuit.”
“The only biscuit I’m familiar with is the kind you put butter and jam on.”
Oskar sent Andrew an exaggerated look of exasperation. “Why did Amanda hire him?”
Amanda Landry was the owner of Defensemen, a private security firm she’d started after her husband, Joel, a NYPD officer, was killed in a sting gone bad. Their son, Deke Landry, was one of the top players in the NHL, if not the best goaltender for the past seven years. Her idea to use former NHL players as personal security detail seemed smart, using their brawn and innate instincts to protect people, but only half of their six-man team was made up of former players.
The other half, like Doug Bowie, were hired for their background in law enforcement. Joey Caruso had come to them from the Secret Service and seemed to enjoy using his lack of hockey-lingo knowledge to agitate Oskar.
“The biscuit”—Oskar held up the crumpled piece of paper before he set it on the ground—“is the puck.” Taking the hockey stick from Joey, he lined up and then, with restrained control, swung, hitting the biscuit and sending it flying into the tight space between a desk and filing cabinet.
Oskar took a bow before giving a toothy grin in Joey’s direction.
“You know, your smile’s not bad when you have all your teeth in.”
“I can show you how I lost them.” Oskar squared off with Joey, and since he was six inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier, it would be easy to assume the former center for the NYC Rangers had the advantage. A person wouldn’t assume the former Secret Service agent was a fifth-level black belt in hapkido, the Midwest’s version of Jackie Chan. “Or would you rather I give you some tips on how to grow that lip lettuce?”
Joey rubbed his fingers over the mustache. “I’ve only been here a few months and my mustache still haunts your dreams.”
“More like fills my nightmares,” Oskar teased. “You look like my Uncle Oleg from the seventies.”
Joey sighed. “Those were the good years.”
“You weren’t even born then.”
Andrew could see this conversation wasn’t going to end any time soon if he didn’t interrupt and he needed their attention focused on the job ahead. “Fellas, you ready to get some work done?”
Putting the hockey sticks away, Joey and Oskar took their seats in the nine-hundred-square-foot office in Midtown. The brownstone building used to be a pharmacy in the forties before being turned into a law office, a campaign office for Richard Nixon, another law office, and then remaining vacant until the husband of a wealthy friend of Amanda Landry purchased it and offered to rent it to her for a nominal rate considering what a space like this could go for in the current market.
“Tomorrow, Valentina Malone is scheduled to land around three in the afternoon. This is two hours before her father, Simon Malone, will land in their private jet. I will pick up Ms. Malone and escort her to the Waldorf.”
