Page 4 of Grant
None of the men at White Knight Security had.
They’d listened to his story and had made plans to verify each incident, find witnesses and interview bystanders. They were going to run down the stalker, while Grant ensured Spencer was neither molested nor disturbed while he worked.
Why can’t you sort out your own mess? You’re supposed to be the clever one here. The whispers of his subconscious mind sounded suspiciously like Carlo.
“Fuck you!” Spencer snarled and dug in the console for a chocolate bar. He didn’t regret his decision to hire White Knight Security, and his inner critic could fuck right off. Besides, he had a house guest to look after and wondering about dinner was more productive than arguing with Carlo’s ghost.
Spencer took a mental inventory of his fridge and larder. He wasn’t an accomplished chef, but he liked to putter around the kitchen, especially when he wasn’t just cooking for himself. He decided on grilled salmon, green beans, and coconut rice for dinner, and turned off the road on a detour to pick up an after-dinner treat.
Grant was quick to notice, appearing beside Spencer before he’d even left his car.
“Why are you stopping? This isn’t Aston Clinton.”
“I remembered I have nothing sweet at home. And this,” Spencer waved at the colourful storefront, “is one of my favourite bakeries.”
“You want cake for lunch?”
Spencer checked his watch. Dinnertime was ages away. “Um … I think I misplaced a few hours. Happens sometimes after a few night shifts. That said, I can eat cakes and biscuits at any hour. Do you have a favourite?”
“Do I have a favourite cake?”
“Yes. Do you?”
Grant stared at the bakery as if he faced a life-and-death decision. “From this place? Lemon meringue pie or Hazelnut Heaven,” he said. “The triple chocolate and salted caramel is good, too. I also love anything with cinnamon and apples. And—” The grin lighting his face made Spencer’s knees wobble. “I can eat cake at any hour, too.”
A sleeping Spencer Corel was the cutest thing. He lay on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, and hadn’t moved a muscle for two hours.
Watching Spencer sleep was both soothing and humbling. Spencer trusted Grant, a total stranger, not to hurt him. The way he’d given Grant the run of the house had been equally casual.
In Grant’s line of work, that was rare. Most of their clients resented needing protection. They hated him prying into their affairs, never realising that lying and withholding information put their own and their guard’s lives in danger.
Boredom wasn’t the only reason Grant disliked close protection jobs. The disdain and unconcern many clients treated him with played a large part, too. Maybe now White Knight Security had plenty of work coming in, they could focus on clients who appreciated their help.
His phone buzzed. Grant retreated into the kitchen to avoid waking the sleeping man.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Doc’s asleep. He had night shifts, yes? Don’t want to wake him.”
“Whipped already? Luca said you were.” Rylan’s deep voice rang with amusement.
“You’re a riot. Are you back?”
“Not yet. Just been checking in. Luca says the officer who heard the doc’s complaint is the ex’s half-brother. So no guesses why he dissed it.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. But also stupid. I’m sure the Cap will raise a stink next time he plays golf with one of the bigwigs.”
“Raise a stink? The Cap?”
“You know what I mean. Luca said they’re going to re-open the complaint and investigate it properly.”
“We can do it faster.”
“Sure. We have your back, bro.”
