3. Elijah

The married man on the lounger across from mine was having an affair.

Not with the woman next to him. They wore matching rings, so she was almost definitely his wife. But he'd been on my radar for the entire week, ever since I'd landed on this balmy Caribbean island.

I studied him from behind my aviators as pleasant waitstaff floated by, offering frothy drinks I was supposed to be enjoying. Every single one of his work calls took place out in the open, so loud they were practically performative. But when his wife was distracted or off to the bathroom, he texted with the fury of a man with a secret. All while wearing an expression I knew well—a smug superiority, the look of a man who believes he's getting away with it.

My father had looked like that.

The couple departed the beach after lunch, leaving me alone and without distraction. I tried to relax into the lounge chair, acutely aware of my rigid spine, the ache in my jaw. My gaze wouldn't settle, constantly scanning the never-changing aquamarine ocean surrounded by palm trees and pink umbrellas. Soft music and bursts of conversation blended with the gentle sound of the waves.

The scene was idyllic. Tranquil. Still, plenty of places for danger to lurk. It was easy to assume danger craved darkness, but I knew it could thrive in the light, ingratiating itself like a consummate host.

So when my phone rang, I didn't flinch. Just picked it up. "Knight speaking."

"It's Foster," my director said. "I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation."

I was already standing and on the move. "It's not a problem."

"It's your first one in years and I had to force you to take it."

"Forced is a strong word, sir," I countered. "You issued strongly worded advice and I was smart enough to listen."

"And you're enjoying yourself?" he asked.

I punched the button for the elevator and stretched my fingers, sore from where I'd clenched them. "Yes, sir. What's the problem?"

My boss hesitated. "Lincoln Beaumont passed away a week ago, on the same day you flew out for your vacation. He had a heart attack on his treadmill. Ripley was on duty and performed chest compressions but he was dead by the time paramedics arrived."

Something behind my sternum flinched at the news. Shock, but not grief. I'd been Lincoln Beaumont's lead protection agent for five years. He was courteous to me but cold. Ruthless in his business endeavors, though I hadn't met a CEO who wasn't. Still, I'd been this man's shadow and couldn't quite comprehend that he was gone.

"I'm sorry to hear it." I cleared my throat. "Why didn't you alert me? I would have flown back immediately."

"That's exactly why," Foster said. "There wasn't anything you could do about it and I'd prefer you well-rested before you step in as director and your chances of taking a vacation are even lower. Besides, it's looking like his death was natural. No foul play involved."

My eyes narrowed. "They're sure of that?"

"As sure as they can be until the autopsy report is released. But given his age and history of heart problems, his doctor thinks it was nothing more than a heart attack."

I was somewhat relieved to hear that, but it didn't answer the many questions I had about who'd been threatening him before he died. We'd caught a tail more than a few times. He'd received menacing voicemails and emails. And his office had been broken into twice. It was one of the many reasons I'd resisted the timing of this mandated vacation for as long as I could.

"You haven't heard the worst of it," Foster continued. "They unsealed his will yesterday and it was revealed that the younger son, Lucas, would be inheriting the company."

The elevator doors slid open and I strode through them, finding my hotel room and pushing inside. "That's a mistake. It was always intended for Preston to take over."

"No mistake. Per Ridley, yesterday's reading came as a major surprise to everyone there."

I hauled my suitcase onto the bed and flipped it open. The news wasn't sitting right with me. I'd never met the younger Beaumont. From what I'd observed, he and his father had no relationship whatsoever. And from what I saw in the local tabloids, Lucas was a rich party boy who lived off his family's money and had never held down a real job.

Lincoln leaving it to Lucas didn't make any fucking sense.

Foster sighed. "Elijah, I know you're not due to return for a few more days, but I'd consider it a great favor if you could fly back and meet with Lucas as soon as possible. Lincoln was set to renew our contract by the end of next week, but we'd been embroiled in negotiations with his lawyers. He was unhappy with us, saw the new threats as our failure—which wasn't a great launching pad for the increased contract rates I'd requested."

An icy guilt twisted in my gut. Every single breach of our security systems was a failure.

My failure.

"The value of the Beaumont contract cannot be overstated. I need you to meet with him and convince him to sign. Lincoln was already wavering and his son's motives are a mystery."

"I'm already packing, sir," I said, laying a neatly folded shirt in my suitcase. "He'll need to get up to speed on his father's recent threats and mounting concerns. My impression is that Lucas Beaumont is walking into this job without any background information whatsoever."

"Thank you, Knight," he replied. "There's a reason why you're taking over for me when I retire."

He ended the call and I proceeded to pack as quickly as possible. Mentally checking off the list of things I needed to do next relaxed my spine faster than any tranquil vista could. There were plane tickets to book, a team I needed to check in with, Lucas's file to study.

My promotion to director of Regent Executive Security Specialists was all but guaranteed, making me the youngest person to assume the role in the company's history.

That didn't mean this next part would be easy. The exact opposite, in fact. Rich party boy or not, Lucas's safety would remain my highest priority.

I'd convince him to sign that contract.

And then I'd guarantee I never failed again.