Page 47 of Perfect Order

“Plus, I found the person in our monitoring room. They…let’s just say no longer with us. Keene’s out for blood. He’s demanding everyone come into the office for a briefing on their responsibilities toward Beckett,” Colby informs me.

“I really quit. I am not standing outside Beckett Miller’s fire escape in the middle of a New York winter. In no way am I paid enough.”

Colby begins laughing. “Sam already figured something out.”

I close my eyes in relief. “Bless him.” It’s something we’ve all said at least a half a dozen times a day since the company Sam Akin worked for merged with Hudson.

“Think of it this way, Kane. Part of your salary goes to paying for Sam’s toys,” Colby reasons.

“That I can live with. Beckett Miller not on an electronic leash where I can zap him back in place, nope.”

Colby is pounding his desk in hysterics at this point. “You mean like inLoki?”

“Think Sam can build that for us?” I ask hopefully.

“I’ll get him right on it once he finishes trying to fix a glitch he noticed with our firewall.”

“That’s much more critical.”

“Feel better?”

“I do, but more importantly, you should. I’m not going to strangle your highest-paying customer,” I retort. Then seriously, I ask, “Did you struggle when you took on civilian protective details?”

“Sure. But I found a way to fix it. Huge stress reliever.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Oh, I’m not so certain you want to know.” Colby’s voice turns serious.

“Why not?”

“Because it involves falling in love. Are you ready to do that, Kane?” Laughing himself sick, Colby disconnects the call.

“Asshole. I work with a bunch of assholes,” I mutter.

“I’m wounded, Kane. And here I thought we were getting along so well,” Mitch chortles. Rumors circulate his uncle was fairly high up in Hudson Investigations before he retired, adding to the speculation about how he was selected to join the firm. But since I had an opportunity to review his file before we started on this assignment and I didn’t recognize his last name, I wonder at the validity of that.

Whatever. He’s a solid guy with good instincts about people and a good attitude. “Well, Clifton?” I turn to face Mitch. “What’s your take on Beckett’s little stunt?”

Mitch is thoughtful for just a moment. “Well, there’s a few ways to look at it.”

“Which are?”

“No one’s hurt, and no one’s dead. At the end of the day, I’d call that a good day.”

“Good theory. Did you learn that on the force?”

His face hardens. “No. At home. My brother, Trevor, and I didn’t have the greatest living situation at home. A family member…” He’s about to say more when the door opens and out comes Beckett with a number of people following him.

Before I can say a word, Beckett immediately apologizes again. “I’m sorry, Kane.” Then he turns to the dainty brunette with multihued braids and squeezes her hand. “We’ll talk soon.”

She nods. I recognize Carys Burke, who wraps her arms around the girl as Beckett sweeps from the suite of offices. There’s a hard look on Mitch’s face that I can only hope isn’t reflective on my own.

Who is she, and what kind of trouble should we be bracing for?

Three days later, I know the answer to both as we’re ensconced in Beckett’s private jet on our way to Austin, Texas. And I’m simply flabbergasted by what I’m hearing from a few seats over.

The woman seated nearby with the long, colorful braids is Beckett’s daughter. And the woman he leapt from the car to chase was her mother. As discussions between them continue, more about Beckett Miller is becoming clear. He isn’t this cavalier man gliding through life—he feels too much. And much of it about the woman we’re chasing after.