Page 13 of Reckless Love

“My job is to plan for unlikely,” I say. “That’s literally the job. I have to think of scenarios that no one else would and plan for them.”

There’s more typing on the other end of the line, and I’m sure she’s cursing me. Probably a few employees are with this shuffle. Should I be losing my shit over eggs hitting the car? A frozen roast breaking the windshield? Maybe not. Marlo could have reacted even worse, and all of them could have gotten into a car accident. I’ve been trying to be honest with myself about whether I’d have this visceral, Hulk-like reaction for all my clients. The obvious answer isn’t one I want to dissect or even acknowledge. Marlo didn’t do his job well, and we were lucky. That’s all the truth I need.

I’d hoped to avoid having anything to do with the Santos family assignment once it was arranged. Better for everyone. Clean and professional.

But if anything happened to her or her son and I’d waved off the risk, let someone inferior guard them, I’d never forgive myself. Never. It’d be like I’d been the one to hurt her, regardless of who wielded the actual blow.

Seeing Ava, being around her again, is fucking up my sense of professionalism. I need to care about their safety because it’s my job, not for any other reason.

“Any chance Owen will be able to take over?” I ask. “He’s her cousin.”

“He’s dealing with a Ren-shaped problem,” Jeanique says.

“Again?”

Jeanique snorts. “You seem surprised. None of us are surprised. Owen can’t seem to say no to Ren about anything, which is half of Ren’s problem. Too many yeses from too many people. Owen’s best friend has always had more charisma than sense.”

I’ve often wondered if it’s Ren that Owen keeps swooping in to save or whether it’s actually Rebecca, Ren’s wife.

“If anyone good comes home from an assignment and can take over for me at any point before this union shit gets resolved, I want to know.”

“Noted,” she says, computer keys clacking again.

“We’re good for tomorrow?” I ask as the front door to the house opens and my sister steps out. She got all the recessive Foster characteristics—blond hair, gray eyes, petite. As different from me, in so many ways, as it’s possible for siblings to be. Raised in the same house but with such a big age gap between us that it’s like we weren’t.

“Swing by the office before going to the Santos residence in the morning. I’ll have someone good here for you.”

“Great. Thanks, Jeanique.” I hit end on the call, and then I turn off the car.

When I get to the top of the ramp, Vanessa grins. “You know,” she says, “I’m very good at keeping secrets. You don’t have to have all your top-secret spy conversations in the car.”

“Top-secret spy conversations?” I arch my brows. “I run a basic security firm.”

“Now,” she says.

Since I’ve never told them where I was for six years, Vanessa wavers between accusing me of being an assassin and being a government spy. She doesn’t know how to explain the money I sent home and what I have now or my involvement with Owen otherwise. Owen loves his NDAs, and after what happened to me, mine is even more ironclad than most.

“How are Mom and Dad?” I ask.

“Dad’s in bed, napping. Tammy, the nurse, is just finishing up, and the next one should be here in thirty minutes. Mom’s not having a great day. Her balance is off, and she’s having trouble with numbness in her arms and legs.”

“Okay,” I say, and I step around Vanessa to go into the house. “Hey,” I say before opening the door, turning back to her. I’d been resolved not to say anything, but even the conversation with Jeanique and the reshuffling of staff hasn’t completely cooled my blood.

Vanessa turns on the ramp, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Tell your friends to lay off Ava and the kid.”

Her eyes narrow. “You said we weren’t going to talk about unionizing. Talking about what’s happening with The Nile is a conflict of interest. That’s what you said.”

“It is,” I agree. “I made that rule when I thought you’d all be sensible and just target the person responsible for your misery.”

“You think she doesn’t know what’s going on? You really think his wife doesn’t know?”

She might not. Not completely. Already, there seem to be a lot of obvious craters in their relationship.

More accurately, I’m not sure Ava cares what’s happening, but I’m not fucking saying that to my sister, who cares very much. “It’s not her company. Aren’t you the one who told me she treats her employees very well? That everyone wants to work for Reckless?”

“Exactly,” she says, triumphant. “She should be helping us.”