Page 42 of Her Boss

I shouldn’t have liked seeing her so uncomfortable as she tried her best to work in such a place.

But there were plenty of things a man like me shouldn’t like. That didn’t stop me from indulging in them now and then.

I couldn’t help but reflect on what this place must have looked like to her when Geneva had been here with me. She hadn’t tried particularly hard to hide her distaste, but it had never been something she’d complained about once.

I sighed and sat down at the battered, but still sturdy desk. Despite the relative squalor of the place, I’d learned to be at peace with it, even comfortable. It served its purpose, and it did it well. Yes, I had other options, but over the years, my little ruse had proven time and again to be an asset.

I leaned against the receptionist’s desk—I’d given Chloe the rest of the day off—drumming my fingertips against my leg as I waited for a client by the name of Jack Temple. Now and then, I had heard tales of White Valley—where this particular man hailed from—but never made it there myself.

The muffled footfalls on the linoleum in the lobby heralded the arrival, finally, of Mr. Temple. I wasn’t sure I was really the man for the job, at least as it had been initially explained to me, but I couldn’t help being a little curious. I’d heard more than enough rumors to have interest in potentially learning more about the unique place.

A firm rap sounded at my door, and I rose to answer it. I opened the door, and Jack Temple filled the threshold. Slightly taller than me, he had a broad frame and strong jawline. A black tailored suit hugged his muscular build. His shoes were polished to a glossy sheen and his watch glinted in the light. Jack was clearly a successful man, and it seemed he wanted everyone around to have no doubt about it.

I waved Mr. Temple inside. “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Trafford.”

“Rick will do.” I dropped into the chair behind my desk.

I gestured to the chair opposite me, and Jack sat down with a deep sigh. His ramrod-straight posture and keen gaze that darted around the room made me wonder if he was an ex-cop. Maybe former military.

“So.” Jack’s fingers opened and closed, then he clasped his hands together. “I’m here on behalf of a special community. A very special community. We’re dealing with a situation that requires a lot of, uh, discretion, and we need your advice—and perhaps even your help—figuring out what to do about it.”

I listened to the quiet, calm man speak, trying to determine right away if he was lying to me. If he was, he didn’t show it.

“What kind of situation is this? Specifically?”

Jack shifted in his seat. “It’s complicated. There are a few people involved, all of us from White Valley. Might be easier to just… show you.”

Though there was definitely more to the story than Jack was letting on, I sighed and nodded reluctantly. “What can I do to help?”

Jack looked away for a moment. “It’s a missing person type of case. Sort of. But the number one priority for us—aside from solving this, of course—is keeping this under wraps.”

I paused for a moment before speaking again. “Discretion isn’t a problem for me. Provided you pay my fee. I can sign an NDA too, if that’s needed. It’s not all that unusual in my line of work, truth be told.”

Jack nodded, his face grim. “I know,” he said quietly. “I meant it though about this being easier to just show you. See the town. Understand what it is we’re trying to preserve. Would you be willing to travel? Expenses paid, of course. We could even put you up in a room in town. Very nice, actually. I’m sure Keenan’s told you a bit.”

Keenan Wingate, a long-time resident of the place, was how I’d originally heard of the existence of the town. He and I had done… a bit of business in the past. Profitable business. One thing I knew about Keenan was that he was brilliant, ruthless, and literally unflappable. Nothing ever seemed to rattle the man.

If he’d asked for outside help, then it must have been something serious indeed. “Look, I agreed to take this meeting based on Keenan’s vouching for you. Normally, even a fraction of your evasiveness would have already gotten you thrown out of my office. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jack said laconically.

“You’ve been nothing but vague, Mr. Temple.” I tapped the desk with my finger. “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need to know more than this. I appreciate you offering to show me the town—and I might just take you up on that—but what would I be coming up there for? Tell me this isn’t some pissing contest between rich assholes who can’t figure out how to get along. If it’s something like that, I’ll take a hard pa?—”

“It’s a missing person’s situation.”

“Who’s missing?”

Temple’s eyes flashed, his lips tightening slightly. “Young women.”

“Oh…”

Missing person’s cases usually went one of two directions. Either the person wasn’t actually missing, and ergo didn’t want to be found—which was more common than anyone would ever believe—or the person was dead.

It wasn’t something I enjoyed doing, as more often than not it just led to frustration or heartbreak. Delivering awful news to people who usually didn’t deserve to hear it was one of the worst things I had to do. So, I made a point of avoiding situations where that might be necessary.

But I knew one thing that would be far worse.

The look on Geneva’s face when I told her I’d decided I had better things to do than lend a hand in finding missing women.

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