Never Mine by Clare Connelly
Prologue
“C’MON, MAN. YOU KNOW I don’t do this kind of work anymore.”
“I thought you were the king of personal security?” Grayson Fortescue’s droll tone hid a rising surge of panic, a tenor that would have gone undetected by almost anyone. But Noah Storm wasn’t just anyone, and he knew Grayson better than most. Which was why the request from one of the world’s richest men had Noah stopping in his tracks.
“I presume you’ve handed this matter over to the police?”
“Of course, my security has informed the local jurisdictions. And after a six-month investigation, they’ve drawn a blank. No one knows who this guy is, nor how the hell he stays one step ahead of the army of security I’ve already engaged, but he does, and he’s getting closer.” Silence fell as Gray went quiet, leaving only the distant droning of Manhattan’s traffic to fill Noah’s office.
“Closer how?”
“This morning, he slashed Max’s car.”
“The tyres?” Noah prompted with a frown.
“No. The leather interior. Somehow the prick got into a secured garage, her Mercedes, all without setting off a single alarm. Forensics are going over the scene now, but so far, they’ve drawn a blank. Not a fingerprint, a hair, a bead of sweat.”
Noah compressed his lips, professional instincts firing to life. Such careful execution of an attack was definitely a bad sign. There were crimes of passion, attacks motivated by spur-of-the-moment opportunity – and these events left tell-tale detritus. Clues. Evidence. But a perfectly enacted contact such as this spoke of a chilling level of ability and planning.
“It’s my sister, Noah.” Grayson’s words were raw, heavy with the weight of his responsibilities, and they reached right into Noah’s heart. He knew what it was like to lose a sister; he knew the pain of not having done enough to protect her. “I need your help to keep her safe.”
But Noah hadn’t done personal security in a long time. He preferred to pull the levers of his company, overseeing security arrangements of one of the top agencies in America from his office in New York.
“I can organize my top guy…”
“You’re the top guy, the only one I trust. It has to be you.”
Noah stared out of his window, his symmetrical face held in a mask of tension. With a jaw that was carved by granite, his face was angular and determined, every inch of him in command at all times.
“Ever since we started appearing in that bloody Scott Gazette Rich List we’ve had to deal with this kind of thing, but this is a whole new level. It’s madness. I’m really worried for her, Noah.”
Noah sighed heavily. “I get it. But there must be security firms in the UK who can handle this? People already on the ground?”
“They’re not you. I need the best.”
Noah was silent, processing that.
“I’d offer you all the money in the world, but I know that’s not what motivates you. So tell me what I have to do to convince you?”
Noah ground his teeth together, frustration whipping at the base of his spine. They both knew the answer to that: Noah owed Grayson his life. If Grayson needed a favour now, then Noah would deliver on it.
“Does she know how I work?”
“No. But she’s scared. She’ll cooperate.”
“If I’m doing security for someone, I take charge of their whole damned life, Gray. Every iota of their life. It’s the only way I can do my job.”
“She’ll hate it,” Gray admitted with a humourless laugh. “But she’ll accept it, because Max is a pragmatist and she doesn’t want to die. She’s scared, not that she’d admit it. When can you be here?”
Noah spun away from the window and began to stride towards the door. “I’ll get the red-eye.”
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“But you tell your sister that I’m in charge. If she wants my protection, she has to do what I say. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. See you in the morning.”
