Page 4 of Protecting the Nerd
Sleeping on the couch? Was he serious? “You can’t sleep on my couch.”
“Why not? Is it that uncomfortable?”
“No, of course not. My couch is very comfortable. In fact, I’ve fallen asleep on it many times. But that’s not the point. You can’t be in my apartment at night.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, why not?”
“Why not? Jesus, where do I start? How about the fact that I need my privacy?”
“Your safety trumps the need for privacy. Would you rather be inconvenienced and alive or comfortable and dead?”
I rubbed my temples. “That’s an attempt at emotional blackmail that won’t work with me.”
“It’s not blackmail, York. It’s a clear choice in priorities.”
“My apartment is too small. I’m serious. We’ll both go insane. I’m not an easy person to get along with under the best of circumstances, as most of my coworkers will attest to. Trust me, after a few days, you’ll want to kill me yourself.”
Shannon winced. “York does have a reputation of being somewhat…ornery.”
Ornery? I couldn’t let that stand. “I object to that label. Ornery has a negative connotation, and I’m not mean or evil-spirited. I’m just not a people person, that’s all.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Shannon mumbled, and Quillon repressed a grin.
I refocused on Quillon. “Look, I spend my days wrapped up in equations and algorithms. I unwind with Tchaikovsky, not small talk. I don’t do well with people.”
“Your objections are duly noted.” He looked blank again.
“But they’re also ignored?”
He leaned forward and pierced me with a pair of green eyes that reminded me of the woods back home: various shades of green ranging from light moss green to the dark green of the firs and flecks of golden brown. “My job is to keep you safe, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to accomplish that, with or without your approval. It’s easier if you cooperate, but if you don’t, I’m still going to protect you.”
I put my cold coffee down with a sigh. “For how long?”
“Until the FBI concludes the threat is gone,” Shannon said.
“Which could take months.” I groaned, knowing all too well how glacier-slow federal agencies could work. I’d tangled with the DoD enough to have firsthand experience.
If this man was watching me for that long, I’d go mad. Not because of him. I had nothing against him, though he didn’t look like he would be my new best friend. We seemed to have nothing in common. But that aside, I didn’t make friends easily.
It still baffled me I’d befriended Fir, the local doctor in my hometown of Forestville. For reasons that surpassed my understanding, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with me, and every time we met, I experienced a profound sense of gratitude. But he was the exception, and I didn’t expect to endear Quillon to me. Not that I wanted to.
“Why don’t we take it one day at a time?” Quillon said. “And if we need to make adjustments, we’ll talk.”
Easy for him to say. What attracted a man like him to this sort of job? It was basically glorified babysitting. How did that appeal to him? “What’s your background?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your background. How did you end up in personal security?”
“Anderson Security was founded by Remington Anderson, a decorated Marine who served in the first Gulf War. He recruits from the Marines, and that’s how he found me.”
A Marine. Of course Quillon was a Marine. Just my fucking luck. Essex’s shadow would always hang over my life, even more than twenty years later. He’d been a bully wrapped in the flag, and now here stood Quillon Minch, cut from the same cloth.
“Thank you for your service,” Shannon said. Thank god she uttered those words. Now I didn’t have to say anything. I wasn’t sure if I could keep the venom out of my voice.
“It was an honor to serve in the Marine Corps.”
“Being an ex-Marine doesn’t necessarily make you good at your job. I hope you have more qualifications than being a lance corporal in the Marines?”