Page 9 of Those Who Are Bound

“We were robbed once. Gage lost some heavy equipment. He learned.” She tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and one of the feeds took up the entire monitor, showing Jonah where they had left him. He was near the bar, leaning back against the wall near one of the front windows, one leg braced out in front of him, the other foot propped on the wall behind him. He was looking at his phone, scrolling with one hand. In the other, resting along his thigh, he was threading a piece of jute between his fingers. He’d finished the beer and had helped himself to bottled water, which rested on the floor next to him.

Even in black and white, he caused a vicious kick in her belly. She was hypnotized by his fingers on the rope, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her skin. More harshly than she intended, she pointed out defensively, “I left him a chair.”

Lucy shook her head. “He’s not really a sit-and-wait kind of guy. I’ll owe him so big for this!”

Elliott raised an eyebrow. She didn’t want to know what Lucy would have to do to show her appreciation, but several ideas were flying through her head. None of them would be a hardship, not with that man. She asked, hearing the strain in her voice, “What’s with the rope? Is it a twelve-step thing?”

Lucy laughed and shook her head. “No, he always has to be doing something. The string—I guess it’s a rope—keeps his hands busy. I tease him that he has a rope fetish. But he’s constantly working with it.”

Elliott swallowed hard. She tapped the keyboard again, and the image shrank back to its original spot. Trying not to get sucked into the mindless rhythm of his rope play, she said, “There’s also an app to access the security features. The tapes are backed up to the cloud. After three months, we destroy them. If law enforcement needs them, though, we hand them over.”

“Law enforcement? For like if you get robbed again?”

Elliott made a face. “Or other reasons; they’ve asked for footage of the lot before, to look for plates. We always cooperate, and it’s in the contract. No one reads it, but it’s there.”

“What if they read it and don’t like it?” Lucy asked cautiously.

Elliott gave her a dark smile. “Then I probably wouldn’t want them on my property anyway.”

Lucy made a face of consideration before nodding. Looking at the screen, she scooted closer to it. “Your place isn’t covered.”

“My place is private,” Elliott added.

“Oh. Do you have a separate system?”

Instead of answering, Elliott stood up and pointed to a brown leather satchel leaning against the wall. “Take that. It’s yours now, Madam Planner.”

Lucy gingerly picked up the dusty leather case. “A laptop?”

“It will be your bible. It has all the contacts, contracts, design software, rates—you name it. It even has the security feed you saw. If you know how to work the website software, it needs to be updated. Eventually, you will need to learn it because you’ll need to block out the calendar when the space is booked or if we’re closed. Of course, I’ll update your contact information this evening. And once you start having events, we’ll update the photos to showcase your work.

“It has the company’s shared drives, but no access to the HR or some of my financials. You can get another satchel if you want. That was Gage’s, so it’s a bit masculine. I never bothered with switching it out.”

Lucy ran her hand over the soft, worn leather as she pulled the strap over her shoulder. Looking at the picture on the wall again, she dipped her head and said, “No, I like it; it gives me a connection, you know? I want to do him proud.”

Elliott turned away, pretending to straighten the papers, surprised by the rush of emotion that had tears welling in her eyes. Lucy said the words so sincerely; they couldn’t have been a put-on to impress a new boss. Where had she come from, and why hadn’t she walked through the door two years ago?

Lucy was effusive and had a problem with her internal filter, but she was closer to Gage’s age, according to the paperwork she’d filled out; thirty-five. If Gage had lived, he’d be thirty-seven. And he had liked his petite blondes.

Not that Lucy could have saved him. No one could have. Not after…

Not going there.

Rubbing the leather as though she was expecting a Genie to appear—or Gage—Lucy asked, “Can we ask Jonah to walk with us around the property? I mean, I know this isn’t about him, but he’s probably so bored. And he’s a nature geek; he’d love to see it.”

Elliott cleared her throat to ensure there were no remaining signs of emotional upheaval before she tried to shoot down the idea. “He’ll ruin his shoes.”

Lucy snorted out a laugh. “Like he cares about his shoes. If it gets him out of that room, he’d probably strip down to his skivvies.” At Elliott’s shocked look, she quickly backtracked, “Oh no, he wouldn’t… it was just an expression. He super loves being outdoors.”

Elliott’s shock hadn’t been from the possibility of it; it had been from the jolt of excitement over the snowball’s chance in hell that he would.Again,what the hell was wrong with her?

“He’ll be good,” Lucy said in a teasingly begging manner, almost as if she was asking if her rambunctious dog could join them on a walk.

Elliott relented. “Tell him to behave and keep him on a short leash.” She powered down the computer. “Text him and have him meet us on the back patio.”

“Oh, he’ll be so thankful!” Lucy dug out her cell phone.

“I don’t need his thanks.”

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