Page 47 of Taming Achilles

“Want some privacy before you make your call?” He asked politely.

“No, not at all. Please, stay.” I fluttered my lashes. “I find your presence comforting.

Chapter 23

Geordie

Delgado turned around when we were in the hall, her dark eyes looking up at me with that stoic professionalism that I admired so much.

“I’m concerned, Mr. Campbell,” she said, looking down at her watch. “I can’t be sure if our shooter and the man in her apartment are the same person, but they both display a frightening amount of professionalism that is worrisome.”

“Aye,” I grunted. “Not even a shell on the scene?”

She shook her head.

“It also does not appear that Miss Fox was the target of the shooting …”

“How do you—” I blurred but she walked right over me.

“It was you, George.” Her eyes bore into mine. “Two of the shots, not counting the one in your arm, landed on the wall you stood in front of.”

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms, lifting a brow.

“I do not judge what your personal life might be.” She was saying it, but there was something in her demeanour that screamed that she was, in fact, judging me. “But is there a reason why a man who broke into her apartment and ejaculated on her bed may want to harm you?”

My jaw clenched. Cat’s out of the bag now.

“We have a long history,” I gritted out.

“I assume it predates her engagement.” It was a statement that didn’t really need confirming, but I went ahead and confirmed it anyway.

“Yes.” Just because I wanted someone to know, I added, “decades before that.”

“I suspected as much,” she nodded. “I think we’re dealing with a love-sick stalker.”

I ground my teeth, my jaw feeling like it’d burst with the pressure I was putting on it.

“I think you should increase your security …” she didn’t need to finish her sentence.

“Done.” I was ready to make the call right then, and there. “I’ll get three teams on her, around the clock and I’ll send a liaison to work with your men full time. I’ll get her to a safe house, and …”

Two heavy footed men came down the hall. I recognized them as professionals right off the bat. Their cargo pants, steel toed boots and khaki button downs were a distinct uniform of men in the security profession. More casual than the suits worn by Caledonia Security, but it was far more practical.

“Mr. George Campbell?” One of them stepped to me, his hand out for a shake. “I’m Ajax LeBlanc.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it. Who the fuck was this guy?

As if he could read my mind, he clarified, “Miss Fox’s head of security.”

“Come again?” I gripped his hand firmly, our calloused palms rubbing together in a strange stand-off.

“As of ten minutes ago,” he said, pulling his hand from my grasp. “We were hired as Miss Fox’s security. I’d like to do a debrief and hand-off with you so we can ensure what’s best for the client.”

What the bloody hell was going on? I swiped at my phone. The bug I had planted on her mobile hadn’t pinged an incoming or outgoing signal. She hadn’t called anyone. So who the fuck was this guy?

That meant one of two things: she knew I had bugged her, or she was used to an abundance of caution and always covered her tracks. Neither one made sense for a model/influencer or whatever you call someone who professionally gets their pictures taken for a living.

The man’s friend had large dark sunglasses, and wore an LA baseball cap low over his features, his arms crossed in front of him. There was something vaguely familiar about him as well. But I couldn’t place it. Like I had seen him somewhere before, but he was hiding his face from me … I didn’t trust him. Either of them.

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