Fatal Truth: Shadow Force International Read Online Free Page B
Author: Misty Evans
crackled to life.
Time for her to go.
“He’s escaped,” she said, blowing past the guard and kicking her exit strategy into high gear. “You have nothing to worry about from him.”
Chapter Three
_____________________
______________________________________________________
Three days later
S AVANNA SAT IN an office inside Rock Star Security that made her dressing room on The Bunk Stops Here look like a rathole. Hardwood floor, marble fireplace, a sleek, black desk and matching zebra-stripe upholstered chairs. The woman in charge of Rock Star Security even had a window seat looking out over a beautiful English garden below.
Who had a formal garden in DC?
Taking her feet out of her three-inch Louboutins, Savanna sank her toes into the plush rug under her. The coffee provided by the male office manager, Connor, —a James Franco look-alike—was the best tasting stuff she’d ever had.
The bodyguard business must be profitable. Rock Star Security Services consisted of an East Coast and a West Coast division. A brochure on the desk stated they were expanding soon to Chicago. All run by the reclusive Emit Petit.
Savanna had done her due diligence and researched him. Even with his success—he was in the top ten multi-millionaires under 30—he led a low-key, private life. Had done a stint in the Navy, never achieving pilot like he’d planned. Entered the SEAL program and rang out after a couple of days. But he’d finished his enlistment, then gone into private security.
He was a good guy from all reports. He provided jobs to veterans, retraining them to provide security and protection services to the rich and famous. He was married and had a son.
After seeing the office manager, Savanna toyed with the idea of hiring a bodyguard of her own. Connor could check under her bed anytime.
But she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for Parker.
The door opened and a beautiful blonde in a red skirt and a white blouse swept in, carrying a file folder and a pink drink that looked like a fruit smoothie. The woman wore dark framed glasses and had piled her hair on top of her head in a smooth bun. A black Lab with a pink studded collar padded along at her side.
Setting the drink on the desk, she said, “Maggie, lay.” The dog took up a spot next to the desk, her dark brown eyes steady on Savanna.
Then the woman offered a hand. “Hello, Ms. Bunkett. I’m Beatrice Reese.” Pointing to the brochure Connor had given Savanna, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look at our protection packages?”
As Beatrice moved to sit at the desk, Savanna noted a baby bump under the skirt. A pang of longing hit her. She’d always wanted a big family, a husband. Her career had taken off—and she loved it—but she had no one, outside of Parker, to share her success with. She’d dumped her last boyfriend—the rat—and her parents saw her as nothing more than a “common news anchor,” as her mother loved to describe her.
Now, she didn’t even have Parker. “As I mentioned on the phone, I’m here to speak to Mr. Petit.”
Beatrice opened the file folder and took out a Mont Blanc pen. “Mr. Petit is overseeing a training exercise with our latest recruit. I’m afraid he can’t make it to our meeting.”
Savanna’s heart sank. “I have to speak to him. It’s important.”
Beatrice finished a note she was making and looked up. “I assure you, I’m fully qualified to set you up with the appropriate services.”
ON16 had specifically stated Emit Petit. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I need to speak to Mr. Petit about a different matter.”
“I assumed as much.” Beatrice sat back in her chair and tapped the pen on the blotter. “Are you looking for a story? A scoop?”
“What?” The woman thought Savanna was there to interview her boss. Normally, that might be a valid question, but it offended Savanna anyway. “I have no intention of doing an exposé on Rock Star Security or Emit Petit, unless, of course,
Time for her to go.
“He’s escaped,” she said, blowing past the guard and kicking her exit strategy into high gear. “You have nothing to worry about from him.”
Chapter Three
_____________________
______________________________________________________
Three days later
S AVANNA SAT IN an office inside Rock Star Security that made her dressing room on The Bunk Stops Here look like a rathole. Hardwood floor, marble fireplace, a sleek, black desk and matching zebra-stripe upholstered chairs. The woman in charge of Rock Star Security even had a window seat looking out over a beautiful English garden below.
Who had a formal garden in DC?
Taking her feet out of her three-inch Louboutins, Savanna sank her toes into the plush rug under her. The coffee provided by the male office manager, Connor, —a James Franco look-alike—was the best tasting stuff she’d ever had.
The bodyguard business must be profitable. Rock Star Security Services consisted of an East Coast and a West Coast division. A brochure on the desk stated they were expanding soon to Chicago. All run by the reclusive Emit Petit.
Savanna had done her due diligence and researched him. Even with his success—he was in the top ten multi-millionaires under 30—he led a low-key, private life. Had done a stint in the Navy, never achieving pilot like he’d planned. Entered the SEAL program and rang out after a couple of days. But he’d finished his enlistment, then gone into private security.
He was a good guy from all reports. He provided jobs to veterans, retraining them to provide security and protection services to the rich and famous. He was married and had a son.
After seeing the office manager, Savanna toyed with the idea of hiring a bodyguard of her own. Connor could check under her bed anytime.
But she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for Parker.
The door opened and a beautiful blonde in a red skirt and a white blouse swept in, carrying a file folder and a pink drink that looked like a fruit smoothie. The woman wore dark framed glasses and had piled her hair on top of her head in a smooth bun. A black Lab with a pink studded collar padded along at her side.
Setting the drink on the desk, she said, “Maggie, lay.” The dog took up a spot next to the desk, her dark brown eyes steady on Savanna.
Then the woman offered a hand. “Hello, Ms. Bunkett. I’m Beatrice Reese.” Pointing to the brochure Connor had given Savanna, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look at our protection packages?”
As Beatrice moved to sit at the desk, Savanna noted a baby bump under the skirt. A pang of longing hit her. She’d always wanted a big family, a husband. Her career had taken off—and she loved it—but she had no one, outside of Parker, to share her success with. She’d dumped her last boyfriend—the rat—and her parents saw her as nothing more than a “common news anchor,” as her mother loved to describe her.
Now, she didn’t even have Parker. “As I mentioned on the phone, I’m here to speak to Mr. Petit.”
Beatrice opened the file folder and took out a Mont Blanc pen. “Mr. Petit is overseeing a training exercise with our latest recruit. I’m afraid he can’t make it to our meeting.”
Savanna’s heart sank. “I have to speak to him. It’s important.”
Beatrice finished a note she was making and looked up. “I assure you, I’m fully qualified to set you up with the appropriate services.”
ON16 had specifically stated Emit Petit. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I need to speak to Mr. Petit about a different matter.”
“I assumed as much.” Beatrice sat back in her chair and tapped the pen on the blotter. “Are you looking for a story? A scoop?”
“What?” The woman thought Savanna was there to interview her boss. Normally, that might be a valid question, but it offended Savanna anyway. “I have no intention of doing an exposé on Rock Star Security or Emit Petit, unless, of course,
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