Page 3 of Protected
But the last thing he wanted to do was leave his team at Supreme Security. Or, as Mason referred to them—Atlanta’s Finest. The team was made up of former military and ex-law enforcement personnel from every branch of government who traded in their badges to become personal security specialists. They provided protection for the rich and famous, and they were the best of the best. They had also become Parker’s family. Hisonlyfamily.
And then there was Chelsey. Chelsey Bailey, the woman he was crazy in love with.
“Dammit!” He pounded his fist against the steering wheel and ignored the pain that shot up his arm. Thinking about her made his heart hurt. “How the hell am I going to leave town and leave her behind?”
Yes, he had broken things off with her months ago after his and Mason’s talk, but he still loved her. However, knowing there was a chance that his father would come after him, he couldn’t risk Chelsey’s life any more than he already had.
Parker knew what he had to do and with that thought, he climbed out of the vehicle. Locking his SUV, he pocketed his keys and made his way to the back door of the converted warehouse. Years ago, Mason had fitted the building with state-of-the-art everything, and that included the security system.
Jogging up the few concrete stairs, Parker stopped in front of the call box and placed his hand against the sophisticated palm reader. Within seconds, the back door clicked open. Even though there were cameras everywhere, and someone monitoring who entered and exited the building, he hoped he didn’t run into anyone. He wanted to get in and out without stopping to talk.
He headed for the back stairs to the executive floor where the bosses’ offices were located. The area was, for the most part, quiet, except for a few voices that could be heard behind closed doors.
Good.No one in sight.Not even Egypt.
Egypt Durand-Bailey was the office manager and practically ran the company. Parker and the guys called her the queen of Supreme Security because she knew everything about everything. Mason and Hamilton Crosby might’ve been the bosses, but she was the person running shit.
Parker approached Mason’s office door, hoping he was still available. The man was as busy as the president of the United States and could’ve easily been called away.
Parker knocked and Mason responded immediately. “Come in.”
He pushed the door open and glanced across the room. “Still got time to talk?”
“Yeah.”
Mason, a former Marine, sat behind his desk. He was a big man at over six feet tall with a bald head, chiseled, dark features, and a muscular build. Even sitting, he was an imposing figure.
Parker moved further into the office, his black motorcycle boots quiet against the plush carpet. The space was huge with beige walls graced with paintings, oversized masculine furniture, and photos of his family on several flat surfaces. Two,upholstered chairs sat in front of the desk, and Parker gripped the back of one of them as he glanced at his boss.
Mason eyed him for a couple of seconds and then tossed his ink pen onto the desk. “I’m surprised you wanted a meeting on your day off. What’s happened?”
That was code for—Have you heard from your father?
Parker hadn’t seen Wolf in at least fifteen years, and he planned to keep it that way. Yet, that photo, the one with Parker in it that the media had captured, could surface. It didn’t matter that Cameron “Wiz” Miller, one of the company’s owners and a tech guru scrubbed the internet in hopes of making the picture disappear, there was always a chance it was still out there.
“Everything’s fine, except I’m leaving Supreme and Atlanta.” The words tasted bitter on Parker’s tongue because leaving his Atlanta’s Finest team was akin to cutting off his right arm.
Still, he had no choice. He should’ve left a long time ago, instead of risking everyone’s life.
Mason rocked back in his desk chair and sighed. Interlocking his fingers on top of his head, he stared at Parker. The man could be intimidating as hell even when he wasn’t trying to be, but especially when he was staring you down.
In his late forties, Mason always carried himself professionally, and though he dressed like he worked in corporate America, there was still an air of danger about him. His facial hair was perfectly groomed, and the dark suit he wore made him appear larger than life. He looked like a boss man in more ways than one.
But he was more than Parker’s boss. He was his mentor, his friend, his big brother. Fifteen years ago, he was also the guy who had found Parker, barely alive, lying face down in what could have easily become his grave.
Parker owed the man his life, and not once had Mason asked anything of him, except for him to never return to organized crime.
I should be dead. The words bounced around inside his head, but he pushed them to the back of his mind.
“I refuse to continue risking the lives of the guys here,” Parker said. “As long as I stay, that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s been four months, Mase, and even though nothing has happened as it relates to my father and the Diego Kingz, we can’t take any more chances.”
They’d had this conversation more than once, but Parker had finally made peace with the idea that he needed to move on. Or at least he was trying to. It was time to disappear—just in case.
“Is this about you being tied to the front desk for the last few months?” Mason asked.
“Seriously, Mase?”
Out of all that Parker had said, that’s what the guy was coming back with?