13 Bronson

Nicole Myers.

Her name rings an alarm in my mind, but I ignore the trepidation I feel. Rand did another sweep of the place she calls home and as much as I hated to admit it, I had to listen to him when it came to make it the last visit.

Dangerous criminal organization.

That was what he called her band of misfits. Criminals.

Although I understand that Nicole was not at the charity function to serve cocktails and shrimp, I find it hard to believe that she could be dangerous.

“Sir, I have Mr. Kroffer on the line.” Looking up, I gaze over at Bethany entering my office.

“Thank you.” Nodding her head, Bethany leaves the office and I grab the call. “Carl, how are you?”

“I’m doing great sir, but something tells me you wouldn’t like to hear all about my exciting day.”

“Not in the slightest. What have you got for me?”

I had called Carl Kroffer after Rand told me where he was able to find Nicole. She had no known address, no career or work history, not even a damn high school diploma or credit card in her name. I knew once Rand came up short, I would need to investigate her further. I called Carl yesterday and asked him to do some research for me.

“Looks as though Nicole Myers was a troubled youth from the very beginning. Lost her parents at the tender age of eleven, from there her and her younger brother Brody jumped form foster home to foster home.”

Christ. My eyes shut as he continues speaking to me about her dropping out of high school just a few days short of her seventeenth birthday and from then on, she practically dropped off the radar, that is until Saturday night at the charity function.

“So, you got everything you needed from me?” He asks, his voice raspy from no doubt years of smoking a pack a day.

“Yes, I’ll send the money tomorrow morning. Thank you, Carl.” Hanging up, I message Rand, telling him exactly what I expect.

Me: Rand, I want you to scale the last known place she was seen. Where was that?

Rand: A small park near the hotel she stays. It may not be a smart idea to be around that area sir.

Me: Get it done. I want her at my home by this evening.

Placing my phone down, I continue my work, or at least attempt to, while my mind conjured up meeting with this mysterious girl again. I don’t understand where my obsession lies with her, she should be no more than a woman that I simply bumped into and calmed her brother down enough for the bullet not to hit me, but she’s more than that, and I haven’t quite figured out what that means.

After hours of working and a small lunch in between brought in by Bethany, I head home for evening at eight thirty. I have another security agent, Jim, bring me home since I still have Rand on his mission. I pay Rand well and he has been working with me for years, what most people don’t know about Rand is that he is ex special forces. His wife wanted him to retire from the job and get a simple security one for her sanity, he obliged and got a job with my grandfather to not only chauffeur him around, but to lead his security detail.

After being dropped off, I head for the kitchen immediately pulling out my leftovers that are still warm and a tumbler of scotch. Sitting at the breakfast bar I pull out my phone and check to see if Rand has sent any updates. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if Rand was not able to get Nicole, I won’t rest until I know more about her.

Until I know why she saved my life.

My phone chimes and I nearly come undone when I see a message from Rand indicating he has seen her, and she is heading his way. Ignoring the few messages and missed calls from Cassandra, I message him back letting him know exactly that I want.

Me: Get her here Rand. I want her in front of me.

The next several minutes go by agonizingly slowly. I finish my supper, knock back two tumblers of bourbon then finally give in to my pathetic desires and go upstairs to lay down.

Who the hell was I kidding, there is no way Nicole would come with a complete stranger, no matter what Rand explained to her. She’s a smart girl, one who has clearly been on the streets her whole life. She didn’t manage to stay alive and smart enough to pull off schemes such as Saturday night’s if she trusted easily.

That was what I wanted to get through. I had to understand her, had to understand her mindset to not only pull something like that off, but to have the decency behind a thief’s mask, to save a life. To save my life.

My head hits the pillow and I am just about to send a message to Rand calling him off her trail when another chime alerts me to a new message. Like a young schoolgirl, I sit up and look at the phone with a smile on my face, one that hasn’t been in place in years.

Rand: I have her sir. We are on our way to you.