Page 8 of Fool’s Gold

Vessely closed the door behind them. “All right. Now that we’re alone, here’s how this is going to work. My cover identity is that of your boyfriend. I’m an art history professor, which is why no one’s met me before. I just started a sabbatical. My name is Jack Vadas. I’m so excited to be reunited that I’m just hanging around with you all the time.”

“All right—the guest room is across the space from here.” Matt shrugged. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of having a bodyguard, but at least they’d be able to have a little time apart.

Vessely’s lip curled with contempt again. “You don’t get it, do you? How do you get to participate in a multimillion-dollar fraud and casualty scheme while being this stupid?”

Matt choked down his temper. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. “Probably by not participating. What am I not getting?”

“This fake boyfriend thing? It’s twenty-four seven. Full-time.”

Matt stared at him. “We’re not sleeping together.”

“We have to share the room.”

“The hell we do.” Matt turned on his heel and headed toward the door.

Vessely grabbed his arm. “Excuse me? People are trying to kill you and that sweet old lady out there. I’m the expert here. I’m telling you, this is how it has to be.”

“Then your company can send someone else. I’ve done a lot to try to help clean up the mess my company made. I’m willing to do that because someone has to. But I draw the line at sharing my bed with someone who ain’t no different than the people he’s claiming to protect me from. Go on. Get out.”

Matt waved his hand toward the door. Part of him stood back, shocked, as the words spilled out of his mouth. He’d been educated, for God’s sake. He’d trained the bad grammar right out of himself, and here he was acting like he’d never been off the farm before. The rest of him, though, couldn’t be surprised.

Vessely was an ass.

Vessely just shook his arm and sneered. “You don’t get it, Taggart. I’m the best you’re going to get. There’s no one better to catch an assassin than an assassin. Get it now?”

“Oh, I got it. I just don’t want it. You can fly right on back to Colorado. I’ll take my chances, thanks. If you’re not out of my home in thirty seconds, I’ll have Georgia State Troopers remove you.” Matt pulled his phone out.

Vessely retreated.

CHAPTERFOUR

Jack made his report,but he drove to the office with Matt anyway. He had a job to do, and until such time as Levi replaced him he intended to get it done. He conveyed his intentions to the overdressed prick at his side, all while smiling and appearing flirtatious for any observers. “You aren’t the one footing the bill for this, and I answer to Levi.”

“Still my house. I’m not letting you inside.” Matt glared at him.

“As much as I question why anyone would think you deserve protection, I have a job to do. And until I’m relieved of duty, I’m going to do it.”

“Do it somewhere else.” Matt kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t speak for the rest of the brief drive to the office.

A group of about sixty protestors lurked near the security entrance. Matt pulled over as soon as they were through the gate and pulled several cases of water from his trunk. He stacked them up under a white pop-up sunshade, one that lacked logos of any kind. A few camp chairs had been set up around and under the shade.

A few of the protestors scowled, but one or two of them waved.Huh.

“How is everyone? More comfortable today?”

A tall man with a bushy beard and a poster board sign with a teenaged girl’s photo stepped up. “You’re not going to be able to buy us off with a couple of creature comforts. We won’t stop until Besse Pharmaceuticals is nothing but a bad memory.”

Matt smiled at him, and honestly, it was a beautiful sight. It was too bad he was what he was because that smile could move mountains. It could move armies.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s like I told you yesterday—having you folks out here is important. You’re a constant reminder to do the right thing, every time, and I’m grateful. Is there anything else you guys need?”

One of the older women chuckled. “You sent pizza yesterday.”

“Now, ma’am, that was anonymous pizza. You can’t prove it was from me.” Two red spots appeared on his cheeks.

The man with the beard shook his sign at Matt. “You can’t win us over with pizza parties either. This ain’t middle school.”

Jack got out of the car. He didn’t put his hand on his gun—he didn’t want to draw attention—but he was ready to step in if he had to.

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