Page 45 of Beau
How incredibly stupid of her.
She wasn’t sure who she was madder at, her father, Beau or herself. Her father for hiring a bodyguard without her permission or knowledge. Beau, for taking the job but not letting her know he was a bodyguard, conning her into falling for him. Plus, he’d used that lame excuse that when you saved a person, you were responsible for them for the rest of their life.
Bull-fucking-shit!
She was mad at herself for falling for all of it. And for falling for Beau. He was a hired bodyguard, not someone truly interested in her for herself.
She was the job.
She followed him to the door of the old boat factory without saying a word. If she didn’t need the help as badly as she did, she would’ve told him to go fuck himself and then found a way back to Baton Rouge to get a car and go...
Where?
She could stay at her father’s house. No. She’d moved out to start living her own life. Leaving her father had taken a huge emotional toll on her and her father. She didn’t want to put him through it again. Nor herself. Her father needed to move on and find another partner to share his life with besides his only daughter. He deserved a second chance at love.
He’d said that Aurelie deserved the same. Only this time, she needed to find someone worthy of her love.
Aurelie had no intention of dating or looking for love. It was too hard. Too messy. Too painful when it didn’t work out.
She could go back to her house and hope that whoever had ransacked it wouldn’t feel the need to do it again, only with her in it this time.
No. Not an option.
She couldn’t go back to her house yet.
For the moment, she’d play her next move by ear. She’d see what the Brotherhood Protectors had to offer in the way of finding the one responsible for her troubles. Between the Brotherhood Protectors and the elements of law enforcement that were investigating the attacks, they should come up with something. As soon as they found the person responsible and put him in jail, Aurelie could walk away from Beau and never have to look at him again.
Beau opened the boat factory door and held it for her.
She stepped through, careful not to touch him and spark that electric shock that happened every time since she’d met him.
Expecting an old boat factory, she was surprised at how shiny and fresh everything was inside. New machines lined each side of the large building with aluminum stacked in neat piles or rolls, ready to be fed into the machines to make small boats.
“When our founder, Hank Patterson, was looking for a place to set up shop in the bayou, we found this old, abandoned boat factory. Hank decided to use it as the base of operations for the Bayou Brother Protectors. Our division leader, Remy Montagne, convinced him it would be a good idea to keep it as a boat factory as cover for the operations center for the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors—and it would give our team purpose between jobs if they could manufacture boats at the same time. Hank had the old factory outfitted with new equipment to manufacture small skiffs. He hired a full-time manager who was experienced in the manufacturing techniques needed to make boats. That man is responsible for training us and keeping operations flowing on a limited basis.”
“You know how to run this machinery?” she asked, despite her desire not to talk to the man. Curiosity got the better ever.
“I do,” Beau said. “Building something with your hands and operating machines is therapeutic. A lot of our guys coming off active duty need that.”
“PTSD?” She shot a glance toward Beau. He’d been in a helicopter crash and lost members of his team. She was sure that, having been an Army Ranger, he’d seen battle and the horrors of war. That had to have been hard. Coming back to the civilian world where people didn’t understand that life had to be even harder. Did he have PTSD?
Her anger lessened a little. But she wasn’t ready to let go of it altogether. There was no excuse for him lying to her about why he was there at that masquerade ball in the first place. And the kiss? Had that all been part of the job?
Her anger spiked all over again. She wanted to ask him for the truth, but not here. Not now.
Beau led her through the boat factory to a door on the back wall. To enter this section, he had to put a finger on a fingerprint reader and then look into a retinal scanner. Once he passed both security checks, a lock disengaged. He pushed the door open to reveal a hallway. As soon as he stepped through, lights blinked on.
They walked past several closed doors to one at the end of the corridor. It opened into a large conference room with a huge table dominating the center, a giant screen on one wall and a bank of computers and monitors taking up another wall.
A man sat at the conference table with a laptop in front of him. When the door opened, he looked up and then pushed to his feet. He rounded the table and met Beau and Aurelie holding out his hand. “Beau,” he said. “I’m glad you stopped by.” He shook hands with Beau and then turned to Aurelie. “You must be Miss Anderson.” He held out his hand toward her.
Her lips pressed into a tight line. “You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”
“My name is Remy Montagne. Beau told us you two were coming,” the man said. “He asked us for help figuring out what’s going on with his...” the man clamped his lips shut for a moment and then continued with, “with you.”
“His assignment,” Aurelie corrected.
Remy flashed a look at Beau. “Did you...”