Occupying the Space

Kieran moved in at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, which felt like the universe's way of reminding him that his life had taken a very specific turn toward absurd.

He didn't have much. A duffel bag of clothes, his tactical gear case, a toiletries bag, and a small box of things he didn't like leaving in his apartment when he was working extended assignments his parents' photo, a backup laptop, a paperback thriller so worn the spine had given up holding itself together. He'd packed for long deployments before. He knew how to fit a life into containers small enough to carry.

What he hadn't packed for was the doorman calling up to announce his arrival with the same tone normally reserved for visiting dignitaries, or the private elevator opening directly into the penthouse foyer like the building wanted to make absolutely clear that Kieran was operating in a different tax bracket now. Or Elliot Sinclair standing there waiting for him, sleeves rolled up and holding two mugs of coffee, looking somehow both perfectly at ease and vaguely pleased with himself in a way that made Kieran immediately suspicious.

"You actually came," Elliot said. "I half expected you to send a strongly worded email instead."

"I considered it." Kieran stepped out of the elevator and did an automatic sweep of the space out of pure habit main room clear, kitchen clear, hallway leading to the offices looked undisturbed. The penthouse looked different in daylight. Last night it had felt massive and cold. Now, with afternoon light cutting long gold lines across the pale floors and the city laid out through the floor-to-ceiling windows like something from an architecture magazine, it just looked expensive. Quietly, aggressively expensive. "Where's my room?"

"Good morning to you too." Elliot held out one of the mugs. "Black, no sugar. Ryan told me."

Kieran looked at the coffee, then at Elliot. The fact that he'd asked Ryan his assistant about Kieran's coffee preference before he'd even moved in was the kind of small detail that Kieran filed away without knowing exactly why. He took the mug. "Thanks."

"Guest suite is the second door on the left." Elliot nodded toward the hallway. "It has its own bathroom and a separate entrance from the service corridor if you need to move quickly without going through the main living area. I had Ryan pull the security panel access codes so you'll have full building-level clearance by tonight."

Kieran paused mid-sip. That was actually thoughtful. More thoughtful than he'd expected from a man who'd exited a panic room early because he was bored. "You prepped the access codes already?"

"I do occasionally function like a competent adult," Elliot said, with the tone of someone who knew exactly how to weaponize dry humor. "Shocking, I know."

The guest suite was, predictably, nicer than any place Kieran had ever lived. King bed with actual linen sheets, a bathroom with a rainfall shower, and a window seat overlooking the east side of the city where the financial district's glass towers caught the light and threw it back in fractured pieces. Kieran set his duffel on the bed, his gear case in the corner within arm's reach of where he'd sleep, and stood in the middle of the room for a moment taking stock.

Six months, he told himself. This was a job. A complicated, proximity-intensive, very attractive no. A job.

✦ ✦ ✦

He spent the first hour doing what he should have done the night before a proper sweep of the penthouse in daylight. Every room, every closet, every window latch. The penthouse covered the entire top floor and was laid out in a rough L-shape: the main living area and kitchen across the wider arm, and the home office, master suite, and guest rooms along the narrower one. There was a rooftop terrace accessible through a glass door off the living room, which was a security nightmare that Kieran circled on the mental map he was building and labeled problem to solve.

Elliot followed him for the first ten minutes, leaning in doorways and watching with that unhurried attention that Kieran was already learning to find deeply irritating, and then disappeared in the direction of his office when a phone call came in. The sound of his voice low, measured, the casual authority of someone who'd been obeyed his entire life carried faintly through the walls as Kieran worked.

He found three things that needed fixing immediately: the terrace door lock was faulty and could be shimmed with a credit card, one of the secondary camera angles left a blind spot near the service elevator, and the panic room keypad was positioned in the master suite in a way that required crossing the entire bedroom to reach it. If someone came through the main door in a hurry, those were precious seconds lost.

He wrote all three up in his phone and knocked on the home office door.

"Come in."

Elliot was behind his desk, the phone call apparently finished, now working through something on his laptop with the focused stillness of someone who was very good at what they did. He looked up when Kieran entered, and something in his expression shifted into a different kind of attention the way people looked when they were genuinely curious about something. He had the most readable eyes Kieran had ever seen on someone who clearly worked very hard to project inscrutability. Everything showed up in them before the rest of his face caught up.

"I've got three security issues that need to be addressed today." Kieran read from his phone. "Terrace door needs a new lock I'll have a replacement installed this afternoon. The camera angle near service elevator three has a blind spot; I need building management to authorize repositioning. And the panic room access needs to be rerouted so you can reach it from the bedroom doorway instead of crossing the room."

Elliot leaned back. "You swept the whole place in an hour."

"That's what I'm here for."

"I had a security firm do a full assessment three months ago. They didn't find any of those."

"They probably also charged you fifty thousand for a report with nice graphs." Kieran pocketed his phone. "I'll handle the lock and the camera today. Panic room rerouting I'll need a contractor for do you have someone cleared for penthouse access?"

"Ryan will send you the list." Elliot studied him for a moment with that unnerving direct attention. "You've done this before. Not just corporate security. This is military-level instinct."

"Eight years," Kieran said, because it was on his CV and not a secret. "Before private sector." He didn't elaborate and Elliot didn't push, which Kieran noted as a point in his favor. Some clients treated a security contractor's background as an invitation for questions they hadn't earned answers to.

✦ ✦ ✦

The afternoon settled into something that was almost normal, which Kieran found more unsettling than tension would have been. He'd worked live-in assignments before, but usually with clients who treated him like furniture present and functional and easy to ignore. Elliot was not that kind of client.

He ordered food from somewhere that delivered in bags too beautiful to be practical and left half of it in the kitchen with a note that said simply enough for two without making it an offer Kieran would feel obligated to respond to. When Kieran came out of the guest suite at six to do an evening perimeter check, Elliot was on the terrace with a glass of something amber, watching the city go from blue dusk to orange sodium-light with the particular stillness of someone who was very good at being alone.

He glanced back when Kieran came out. "I won't jump," he said. "If that's what the concerned look is about."

"The concerned look is about the fact that you're standing on a terrace with insufficient edge protection and the door behind you is still the faulty lock I haven't replaced yet." Kieran crossed to the door and examined it. The shimmy issue was worse than he'd thought he could feel the give in the frame. "Don't use this door again until I've sorted it. Use the interior access from the living room."

Elliot turned to look at him properly, and the evening light did something complicated to his features that Kieran found professionally inconvenient. "You're going to spend the next six months finding everything wrong with how I live, aren't you."

"That's the job."

"And the job matters more than anything else."

"In this context, yes." Kieran met his gaze steadily. "You hired me because someone wants to kill you. I'd like that person to not succeed. That requires me to treat everything in your environment as a potential vulnerability until proven otherwise. Including," he added, "you."

Something shifted in Elliot's expression. Not quite amusement, not quite something else. "Me being a vulnerability."

"You exited a panic room last night because you were bored. Yes. You're in the top five." Kieran stepped back from the door. "Come inside. I'll make the coffee this time."

Elliot followed him in. And if he looked a little more like the real person Kieran had glimpsed at two in the morning the one underneath the tailored suit and the S-Tier certainty Kieran did his job and didn't mention it.

He was very good at not mentioning things.