Chapter Eight

In her five years working as the receptionist at Blue Star Security, Cordelia Patton had seen many large men sitting in the waiting room. She’d also seen lots of angry people in those chairs. But on this particular Saturday morning, she was a bit taken aback to see four very huge, very gorgeous, very furious men standing over her, looking like they were seriously contemplating throwing the chairs right out the window.

She got to her feet, nervous and hoping that whatever the problem was, it didn’t land on her: with their combined weight, these boys would crush her flat as a pancake. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“You may,” the one with cold blue eyes and dark hair said. “We need to see Greg Wallace, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?” Cordelia squeaked. She knew full well that they didn’t; she also knew full well that hardly mattered to them.

“No,” said the man with shaggy blond hair and piercing green eyes. “But we’re going to see him anyway.”

The other two men nodded.

“Um.” Cordelia cleared her throat. “May I ask what this is regarding?”

The first man studied her. “It’s regarding one of Blue Star’s clients who could have been seriously hurt last night, because your boss couldn’t be bothered to fucking pick up his phone when she called for help.”

Cordelia gasped. “Oh, my God. Who? Which client?”

“Olivia Jameson,” the other blond man said, his gray eyes steely.

She gasped again. “Liv? Is she – is she OK?”

The men paused and looked at her now.

“You know her?” the first man said with a Texan drawl. “You know Olivia?”

“Oh, yes.” Cordelia blinked back sudden tears. “She’s great. For my birthday this year, she gave me a luxury spa weekend. She said that I work too hard, and she wanted me to have something relaxing and special. She even took care of my son for the whole weekend, so I didn’t have to pay a babysitter… Liv’s amazing.”

The man’s blue eyes warmed up. “Yeah, she is.”

“It’s her stalker, isn’t it? Is she hurt?”

“No, hon.” The man was gentle now. “She’s not hurt at all and she’s safe.”

“Thank God.” Cordelia wiped her eyes. “And what? She called Greg and he didn’t answer?”

The men nodded.

She tightened her lips. “OK, sit down. I’ll get Greg out here. Give me two minutes.”

They watched her go down the hallway, and then they exchanged looks.

“You get the feeling that she’s going to kick his ass before we even get to him?” Jim asked.

“She may,” Dallas agreed. “She looked mighty irritated.”

They heard shouting now, and they switched their attention to the voice, which was rapidly coming closer to them.

“Jesus fuck, Cordelia!” the man was shouting. “How the fuck could you lose the whole contact list? How?”

“I don’t know, Greg,” she said. “It just happened. Whoops.”

“Whoops?” Greg said. “Just – fucking whoops?”

He stormed into the reception area now, and stopped dead when he saw the four men glaring at him. He focused on Dallas.

“Foreman,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Oh, yes!” Cordelia said brightly. “I just remembered that I saved a backup copy of the contact list on the server. Also, these nice men are here to see you. I’ll show them into the conference room, shall I?”

Greg stared at her.

“This way, gentlemen,” she said.

“Hold up,” Greg said. “What’s this about, Foreman?”

Dallas met his eyes. “Olivia Jameson.”

Greg stiffened. “What about her?”

“You really want to discuss her stalker out here?” Dallas asked as the office door opened and a woman walked in.

Greg huffed.

“So, the conference room is this way!” Cordelia twinkled. “Follow me, please.”

The five men trooped down the hallway after her and she stood aside. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks, hon,” Dean said. “We won’t be staying that long.”

She winked at him and he grinned back. She shut the door, leaving them to whatever it was that was about to go down.

Greg sat. “So. What’s the problem?”

“I told you. Olivia’s stalker,” Dallas said.

Greg made an impatient sound in his throat. “We’ve assessed him and decided that he’s not a significant threat.”

“No?” Dallas’ voice was deceptively soft. “Then maybe you can explain to me just why that ‘not significant threat’ ended up standing in Olivia’s living room last night, while she was home all alone?”

“Sorry. He what?”

“Yeah. She had to lock herself in the bathroom and wait for me to get to her.”

“How the fuck did he get in?”

“Well, geez, Greg,” Dallas said. “I kind of thought that as head of Olivia’s security detail, you’d have the answer to that, huh?”

“Fuck you, Foreman.” Greg got to his feet, turned to leave the conference room.

Dallas moved so fast, Greg didn’t have time to do more than raise his hand, and he did even that too late. Before he quite knew what was going on, Dallas had him pinned up against the wall, his massive forearm pressed hard on Greg’s throat. He thrust his face into Greg’s.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Dallas snarled.