Page 93 of Shockproof

“Are you aware of the team that handled the assignment?”

“Bannon, Kaut, and Heuton.”

“Are you aware that Bannon was not a part of the original team?”

His question successfully stops my motions. “What?”

“Rosenkrantzwas.” My kidnapper tips his head slightly forward. “Nicolas Rosenkrantz.”

“Your father I’m gonna guess.”

“Correct.” Confirmation convinces my discreet writhing actions to restart. “My father got replaced last minute as lead operative on the assignment when a paperwork princess like yourself crunched some numbers and decided that Bannon was a better candidate because his risk assessment wasslightlymore favorable.” His jagged letters slice mercilessly through the cold afternoon air. “It didn’t matter that my father hadyearson Bannon and had done nothing but show loyalty to the company since the day he was hired. No. Someone in a cushy office chair, with no idea how the field actually works, did a little bullshit math, and decided it would be better if Bannon took point while my father ran second on a completely different operation.”

I wiggle the knot a little more receiving almost no resistance.

Yes!

I’m close!

So close!

“Wahl’s rescue became national fucking news. The shit they wrote books about and made shitty unauthorized movies over. Bannon, Kaut, and Heuton’s reputation landed them much more than just the pick of the litter at HE. They did interviews. And sold exclusive rights to their version of the events under Haworth’s approval, as long as they agreed to not slander the company during their media tours. Their livessoared,yet my father’s? It went in the opposite direction. He receivedlessof the top tier assignments. Was repeatedly passed over for one of them. Started drinking more. Eating less.” Another headshake is presented. “You have any idea what it’s like to watch the decline of Superman right in front of your eyes?”

Sympathy requests access to my veins only to be instantaneously denied.

Perhaps I would be if he wasn’t trying to kill me.

Had he not fucking kidnapped me based on a grudge that hasnothingto do with me.

“I honestly couldn’twaitto leave for the Marines when I turned eighteen. Just to get away from watching him waste his life like that. Unfortunately for me, between him becoming a raging alcoholic and my mom’s death, I was forced home. Decided I’d apply to the private sector. Join HE like him – despite how dirty they had done him – and restore the Rosenkrantz name. And I did.” The prideful hand wave occurs at the same time mine finally slips free from the rope cuff. “He let himself get to the bottom of the food chain, taking on low risk PS gigs for elderly celebs while I climbed the charts. I ended up having some of the best numbers in the whole fucking company when I quit. I was in the top five of hot saves – those in an active gunfire situation – protects and kills of all time. I had done so well and accomplished so much and made them so much fucking money that I justknewthey would give me a number.”

The thick restraints fall lifelessly to the space between me and the back cushion.

“And then when the rumors about a new number being filled began, again, Iknewit was me who would be getting that offer. That call. That this would be the moment I proved to my father we had lost a battle, but we were going to win the whole fucking war. I knew it.He knew it.” His frame slides to the very end of the seat to waggle a finger. “But then…someone who knows how to read papers and not people – much like yourself – decided that Lenkov would be a better fucking fit.” Seeing his spite sizzle its way to me has me wanting to scoot elsewhere. “Lenkov?Harvey Lenkov? Middle fucking management Lenkov?! That was a better fit to assist in running this company than someone who had had boots on the fucking ground?! Than someone who was basically a fucking general with information his can’t fire straight ass couldn’t even dream of?!”

Okay.

Management stuff?

True.

His ability to handle a weapon?

Not true.

At least not according to the target hit photos he showed me from being at the range with Slater.

“The day it was announced Lenkov would be filling the role was the last time I saw my father alive.”

There’s no preventing my jaw from dropping.

“He drank the entire bottle of Wilcox we were going to drink together in celebration –alone– for dinner and then got into his car in the closed garage to treat himself to a bit of carbon monoxide poisoning for dessert.”

More shock settles on my shoulders.

“They took my father’s pride,” Ivan announces as he rises to his feet, clearly in need of walking off the emotions. “His confidence.” He moves a few steps closer to me around the table dividing us. “His job.” Plopping down on the edge of the furniture directly in front of me is both horrifying and helpful. “And then finally his fucking life.” I lock eyes with him during his lean in, which is obviously an intimidation tactic. “Why poach from the same company I left?” An undeniably vile beam spreads across his face. “Because they poached everything from my family.”

Now,that’san oversimplification.

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