Page 25 of All Bets are Off
“Mr. Fields, Mr. Hammond, I’m Alice Stephens, Mr. Boring’s assistant. He’s expecting you.” She takes a step back to allow us to enter a spacious foyer tiled in black and white, and as my eyes sweep over the curving staircase leading to the upper floor, a dark head ducks out of sight.Looks like someone’s curious about our arrival.
We follow Ms. Stephens down a long hall to a door that she gives a perfunctory knock before opening. Briefly, I take in the dark blue walls and large desk before focusing on the tall man in his fifties who stands upon our entrance. He looks much like his picture, only more worn down, with bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth.
“Parker Boring.” He shakes each of our hands.
“Logan Fields and West Hammond,” I say.
“I’ve been assured you two are more than capable of keeping Celine and Felix safe,” Boring says.
“Your children are secure with us, Mr. Boring,” Logan reassures him. Boring visibly relaxes. Logan tends to have that effect on people, while I’m more likely to stir them up. After years of friendship, I know when to let him to do the talking.
“Please, call me Parker. I really appreciate Slade sending someone out so quickly. When Josh, the kid’s regular bodyguard, was attacked, I admit I panicked. Slade’s an old friend and the first person I thought of to help me.”
“The bodyguard was hit over the head while out with the kids, is that correct?” I ask, remembering what I read in the files while Logan drove us to Raleigh.
Boring nods. “The police tried to pass it off as an attempted mugging, but I know better. My family’s been receiving threats for months that if I don’t back off this case, something bad is going to happen. But everyone has a right to legal counsel.” As though we might argue, he pins us with a steely glare. “I need the reassurance that my children are safe, so I can focus on the trial.”
“Of course,” we both murmur.
The sound of voices alerts us just before two young people appear in the doorway. Felix, who is seventeen according to the file, is of medium height, clean-cut, and has an athletic build. He’s wearing a basketball shirt with the name of his private school emblazoned on the front and a pair of cargo shorts. Celine wears a collared shirt with a nice pair of denims, and her pert face is devoid of makeup, making her appear younger than the fifteen years noted in the file. Judging by height and hair color, I’m pretty sure she’s the one who was checking us out from upstairs.
“Kids, these are your new bodyguards until Josh returns, Mr. Hammond and Mr. Fields.”
“West and Logan will be fine,” I say, smiling at the teens.
Celine looks us over, eyes curious, but Felix barely glances our way.
“Dad, the team’s having a meeting at Sterling’s. Can we go?” he asks.
Mr. Boring appears unsure.
“I can escort him,” I assure him.
Boring sighs. “I was going to show you the house, but I suppose that can wait. I’ll have your things taken to your room upstairs, and Peter will bring the car around.”
“Dad!” Felix sounds exasperated. “It’s only five miles away, and I haven’t gotten to drive my Porsche in ages.”
“Can I go, too?” Celine asks, looking up from her phone on which she’s been texting at lightning speed.
“What do you want to go for?” Boring asks his daughter, looking oddly flustered for a man who’s known for being cool under fire in a courtroom. But I guess teenagers can do that to you.
“Sterling’s sisters are there,” she says.
“Dad, she doesn’t need to—” her brother attempts to interrupt, but Boring cuts him off.
“Fine, go. Peter will drive you in the limo. The Porsche isn’t big enough for all of you anyway.”
“God, we don’t need bodyguards,” Felix mutters as he strides down the hallway, Logan and I following.
“Right?” Celine shoots us a disdainful look, all previous politeness gone. “Like we need two big oafs following us now instead of just one. At least Josh wascool.”
“And that was totally a mugging, not someone trying to do anything to us,” Felix says.
“Totally,” his sister agrees. Logan and I exchange looks but don’t say anything as we follow the kids out a side door to the large garage where a silver limousine is parked and a man who I assume is Peter stands waiting for us.
Once the four of us are settled in the large back seat of the limo, Celine peels off her shirt, revealing a pink crop top underneath. I frown and look at Logan, who shrugs. I guess it’s not our job to dictate how they dress unless our employer asks us to.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Celine says, not looking away from the makeup mirror she’s taken out of her purse.