Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I won’t need it.
Cassidy nodded. “I’ll call you after the meeting.”
“I’ll answer.”
Cassidy’s gaze heated for one quick, private second before he murmured, “Have fun.”
Xander put his sunglasses back on before his face gave too much away, then went toward the door, where Free, Tech, and Curtis waited.
He glanced back once before stepping into the hall.
Cassidy was watching him.
Xander gave him a small dip of his head.
As he followed Free, Tech, and Curtis toward the elevators, hat low, sunglasses on, his heart felt strangely light.
Xander finally believed for the first time in a long time…he wasn’t in danger.
God
God relished the smile on his husband’s face.
He didn’t get to see that kind of smile anymore. Not the sharp grin he used before he said something that’d get them both in trouble. Or the cocky one he flashed when he had the upper hand.
This one was different.
Pleasantly surprised. Excited. As if his prayer was being answered much sooner than he’d expected.
God leaned back in his chair and watched him across the table in the semi-secluded corner of the infamous 71Below restaurant in Downtown LA, letting himself enjoy the sight.
Because this news was almost too good to be true.
They were seated behind a screen of tall palms and dark wood partitions, tucked far enough away from the main dining room to keep their conversation private.
The restaurant had the kind of California elegance God didn’t have a liking for. Ambient lighting even in the daytime, overpriced mineral water, waitstaff that was stiff and impersonal, and plates arranged by chefs who thought empty space was the main entree.
Cassidy Morrison had arrived with his briefcase and laptop, set both near his chair, and waited until the meal was eaten before he decided to get to the reason he’d brought them there.
“What’s the plan when you get back to Atlanta?” he’d started.
God shrugged. “Clean out the office, I presume.”
Day told him what the procedure was, but also how none of his guys would ever partner with anyone else.
“Ruxs and I talked about maybe opening a self-defense school or something.” Green shrugged.
Cassidy had listened, sipping his Cognac, eyes moving from man to man.
“So, what’s up Morrison?” God said. “The view from up here is great, but I don’t think that’s why you invited us.”
Cassidy pulled out a folder and opened his laptop.
Then dropped a warhead in the center of the table.
“How would the five of you like to become equal partners with me in West Protective Solutions?”
God stared at him.
So had Day.
Ruxs stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. Green’s brows pulled together. Steele crossed his arms, chewing on his toothpick.
For a long moment, the only sound came from the quiet clink of dishes somewhere beyond the palms.
Day was the first to recover.
His smile started small, then widened into that bright, disbelieving expression God felt behind his ribs.
“Are you serious?”
Cassidy didn’t smile, but his eyes changed. “I don’t make offers like this for fun.”
Their waiter approached with fresh coffee and two more glasses of water. He set everything down with serene ignorance before he walked away.
Cassidy turned the laptop toward them.
“I’ve wanted to expand for years,” he said. “Not because the company wasn’t already profitable. It is. But because I’ve reached the limit of what I can safely control with the structure I have now.”
He tapped a file open.
Numbers filled the screen. Names. Locations. Contracts. Lots. Projections.
“There are four major studio lots in this city alone that have approached me in the past eighteen months. Serious pitches. Serious money. That doesn’t include the independent production lots, soundstages, streaming campuses, private backlots, event venues, and production offices that want upgraded security after what happened with Xander.”
Ruxs leaned closer. “How many?”
Cassidy’s gaze moved to him. “Over thirty production-related facilities in the greater Los Angeles area, twelve more on the East coast, including Atlanta and Queens, New York.”
Green whistled low. “Damn.”
“My administrative staff can’t keep up with the calls right now,” Cassidy said. “After the attacks hit the press and Bennett Ashford’s name got attached to them, everyone with a camera, a studio gate, and a nervous insurance carrier wants stronger protection yesterday.”
God stared at the screen, then back at him.
“I can’t recruit more agents until I first acquire a strong leadership team,” Cassidy said. “Men with discipline, instincts, integrity, combat sense, strong work ethic, and the ability to make hard decisions under pressure.” He shifted his focus from God to Day. “You and your team have more than met those qualifications.”
Day sat forward slowly, his pretty hazel eyes scanning every name and number on the spreadsheet.
“I’m sorry about your task force. But I have no doubt your superiors will come to regret it, maybe not now, but definitely later. So before they come begging for you guys to come back, I thought I’d shoot my shot,” Cassidy said.
God smirked.
Day’s hand brushed his knee beneath the table.