Page 3 of Protecting the Nerd
Her office was a stark juxtaposition of polished chrome and glass, accented with splashes of green from a meticulously cared-for fern or bonsai. The room looked like a futuristic terrarium, one that reflected Shannon’s personality—orderly, with no place for clutter or nonsense.
A knock on the door, and Bonnie, Shannon’s secretary, stuck her head around the corner. “Mr. Minch from Anderson Security is here.”
Shannon nodded. “You can send him in.” She gave me a stern look, her silver-rimmed glasses perched precariously at the end of her nose. “Behave.”
Behave? What was I, a rebellious teenager? Although, come to think of it, that was kind of my reputation, and I hadn’t worked hard to dispel anyone of that notion. It had its advantages when people saw you as somewhat eccentric or plain antisocial. I’d discovered I could get away with a lot. Or maybe that was because EDS recognized my expertise and the value I added to our R&D team.
The man who walked in wasn’t the bulky body-builder type I had expected, though he was tall—an inch or so taller than my six foot one—and in excellent shape. But his muscles were sleeker, almost like a jaguar, and he looked equally dangerous. Calm but with an intense look in his eyes. He was also older than I had expected. I’d been counting on some twentysomething young dude, but he had to be at least five years older than me, which put him in his late forties.
“Ms. Bruneau, I’m Quillon Minch. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Shannon all but batted her eyes at him, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her. He was pretty damn hot. Well, for a guy, anyway. “I’d like you to meet York Coombe, your client.”
Quillon—and what the fuck kind of name was that?—spun around and extended his hand. His eyes widened for a moment, but it was gone in a flash, and his expression was neutral again. Had I imagined that? I must have. Our paths hadn’t crossed, or I would’ve remembered. I might not like people, but I had an excellent memory. “Nice to meet you, York.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t get the “likewise” past my lips because I was anything but pleased to meet him.
His mouth curled up. “I take it you’re none too happy about my presence?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Are you always this direct?”
“With clients? Yes. It prevents miscommunication, which can be lethal in my line of work.”
“In mine too.”
“I would imagine so.”
“You know what I do, then?”
Quillon chuckled. “Can’t pretend I understand even a little bit of it, but I get the gist, yes. You design, develop, and improve military defense systems.”
“And he’s very, very good at that,” Shannon said. “The best, in fact.”
“So am I at my job,” Quillon said calmly, and I had no doubt he was telling the truth.
“I appreciate your role in my protection. But let’s get one thing straight. I value my solitude. I’m not thrilled about having a chaperone.”
“Understood.” The ghost of a smile touched Quillon’s lips. “I’m here to keep you safe, not to disrupt your life more than necessary. We’ll find a balance, York.”
“Let’s sit down and discuss how this will work.” Shannon gestured at the sitting area in the corner of her office, which consisted of an uncomfortable black leather loveseat and two equally hard and unyielding sofa chairs. Though maybe she’d done that on purpose to keep people from visiting too long, which, come to think of it, was a smart strategy.
I lowered myself into one of the chairs and curled my hands around the cup of coffee Bonnie had handed me when I walked in. Too bad it was already lukewarm. Sigh.
“Your firm came recommended by the FBI,” Shannon said to Quillon, who nodded.
“We prefer to work closely with law enforcement agencies because instead of focusing on celebrities, we concentrate on clients who are deemed at risk. The FBI has referred many clients to us, and we’re grateful for the pleasant cooperation. It makes our jobs a lot easier.”
“Did they also inform you they’ll be doing an extra background check on you and anyone else assigned to York?” Shannon asked.
“Yes. From what I understand, it’s necessary to get the needed security clearance.”
“Correct. We’re a military contractor, and almost everything York works on is considered top-secret military technology. You couldn’t be in a room with him otherwise.”
“Understood. I already gave my full consent to do whatever is necessary. I’ll be the primary on York’s case, with two coworkers as backup and three more for the night shifts.”
I held up a hand. “Backup. Night shifts? Where? I have a one-bedroom apartment.”
Quillon turned his attention to me. “I’m aware. I’ll be sleeping on the couch, and we’ll station another agent either outside or in the main lobby, depending on the setup of the building, which I haven’t been able to check out yet.”