Page 17 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

“Good luck getting that info,” Noah said.

He’d first met Rodrigo De la Cruz in South America when they’d faced off against a cartel. Nobody knew who he’d worked for, exactly, only that his cover had been blown, and rather than taking a new assignment with his no-name agency, he’d signed on with Benson Security.

“Katrina’s at the hotel, sorting out the last of our permits and paperwork,” Rochelle continued. “And I have no idea where Abasi Otieno is.”

Noah arched an eyebrow. “Is he still joining the team?”

A large part of him hoped that the former London mobster would change his mind about Benson Security. Why he wanted to join in the first place was a mystery to everyone who knew him, and why Lake Benson had offered him a position was even more confounding.

“That’s anybody’s guess.” She lowered her voice further. “You knew him in London. Exactly how concerned should I be about having him on my team?”

“I didn’t know him well. He’s connected to the London office through their tech specialist, who treats him like a brother. Her actual brother was Abasi’s best friend, and the two of them helped run a London mob for years. Marcus, the brother, was being groomed to take over before his father killed him. When he died, Abasi went into revenge mode and burned the organization to the ground. He’s dangerousandconnected. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

Rochelle let out the faintest of groans. “Just what we need. I’m already dealing with three baby criminals who act like puppies that need training. Not to mention the ticking time bomb that is Violet Lee. I do not want to add a renegade with a serious criminal background to the mix.”

“Hedoeshave skills and connections.” Noah played devil’s advocate.

“So did Al Capone.”

He didn’t want to make things worse by telling Rochelle that he thought Abasi was a whole lot more dangerous than the famous Chicago gangster.

“Look,” Noah said, “I was a cop. You’re ex-FBI. Rodrigo was with some kind of law enforcement agency. Violet, for all her faults, was still a good police detective. Not everyone on your team has to be taught how to play with others. Half of us already know how to toe the line.”

“And the other half don’t even know where the line should be drawn,” Rochelle added.

“Then there’s Katrina Raast,” Noah said. “Lucky number nine. Neither law enforcement nor a criminal.”

“No, she brings a whole different set of problems to the table.”

While it wasn’t public knowledge, Noah was aware of Katrina’s history—he’d worked alongside her brother in London. “Katrina’s worked hard to put her experience behind her. She’s smart and capable. She won’t let you down.”

Rochelle rubbed her temples. “This team’s full of misfits and castoffs. How the hell are we going to make it work?”

“Don’t look at me,Boss.” Noah grinned. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”

“Asshole,” she muttered.

“Yep.” He laughed. “But a smart asshole who had the sense not to take responsibility for this team.”

“You also skipped out on the task of fortifying this building. It’s the only way we can keep Annabelle safe. I’d really like to not screw up our first job as the new Benson Security office.”

Noah winced, and this time, it wasn’t in pain. “Fortify the building? Who’s footing that bill?”

Rochelle gave him a wry smile. “Questions like that are the reason why they offered you the job of heading up this office before giving it to me.”

“I don’t want that kind of responsibility. That’s why I gave them your name.” He grinned at her. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, I can’t thank you enough for volunteering me,” she said dryly as she studied him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll survive. Don’t worry about me doing my job.”

“You’re the only one I don’t worry about,” she said grimly.

Noah hadn’t lied. He was going to be fine. He wasn’t even that badly injured. Although it was clear his pain meds were wearing off. His head had begun to throb, probably from the piece of monitor glass that had embedded itself in his scalp and had to be removed at the hospital. He now sported an attractive white bandage where a chunk of his hair used to be. On top of that, he had a bruise the size of a toaster oven on his back and stitches in his leg where a bullet ate a chunk of flesh.

Sure, he was lucky the bullet hadn’t caused any real damage, but it still felt like he’d gone several rounds with his buddy Beast—a professional mixed martial arts fighter. There once was a time when Noah barely noticed an injury, but these days, he all but creaked when he walked. He sighed as he watched the triplets remove the old partition between the offices to make one large, open-plan space. Their youth and endless energy made him feel every one of his thirty-five years.

A door banged open behind Noah, and he turned as Violet stalked back into the room. One of the triplets opened his mouth to say something to her, but she held up a hand as she glared at him and barked, “No.” He shut his mouth again.