Chapter 2 Unexpected Offer

CHAPTER 2: UNEXPECTED OFFER

To Holt's amusement, Bonnie pulled out her cell phone and pretended to scroll through her messages. The phone in his back pocket vibrated with an incoming text only seconds later, confirming his suspicions. She'd written him back while he was driving and couldn't do anything about it, the little tease.

Man, but she was fun to be with! He could only hope her message to him consisted of one word — yes! He wasn't holding his breath, though. She'd gotten really jumpy when he'd asked her out a few minutes ago. On the upside, she hadn't given him a flat-out no.

They reached Anderson Ranch long before he was ready to say goodbye to her for the rest of the week. He carried her suitcases inside the big red barn that had been converted into a B and, sure enough, he spied a white security camera mounted to the side of the B&B. It was trained right on his truck. "Okay, I'll bite. Where's your office?"

"Next door." Foster sounded brisk. "After you leave the ranch, hang a right. We're their neighbors on the next lot over."

"Too easy." The only work Holt had waiting for him back at the garage on his parents' property was a lift kit job. A local range rider wanted his truck jacked an extra six inches off the ground. Holt had plenty of time to spare for a detour on his way back there. "See you in two minutes." He disconnected the line.

As he drove the short distance from Anderson Ranch to the entrance drive of K&G Security next door, he wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't surprised, though, when he was forced to stop in front of a set of steel security gates. There was a call-station with buttons on it to his left. Before he could roll down his window, however, the security gates started to swing open.

He drove a paved road around a bend of trees and slowed his speed, eyeing the sprawl of buildings in front of him. To his far left was a two-story cabin that looked like it had recently been refinished or added on to. To his far right was a clay tile barn with a round laminated rafter roof painted white. It looked old, like something from another era. However, it was well maintained. Two freshly painted white weathervanes were spinning in the breeze on its roof. A matching clay tile grain silo was butted up to the back of the building.

Directly in front of Holt was a massive white metal building with a sign over the front door that identified it as K&G Security's headquarters

Though it looked like there might be a parking lot behind the building, Holt braked near the entrance. He doubted he'd be here long.

As he exited his truck, he could hear the muffled sound of gunfire in the distance. Interesting. He hadn't been able to hear the sound while he was at Anderson Ranch, making him suspect there was an indoor range somewhere on the premises.

The moment he entered the building, the sound of gunfire grew louder. Yep. Definitely an indoor firing range, and it was located in the building he was standing in.

He found himself in a sparsely furnished reception area, facing an unmanned booth. A security camera on the wall behind the booth was trained on the front door, so his entrance had undoubtedly been noted.

"Hi, Holt!" A man with tousled brown hair strode around the corner. He crossed the room with his hand outstretched. "I'm Foster. I don't believe we've met before." He was dressed in solid black. His short-sleeved t-shirt was tucked into cargo pants, which were tucked into combat boots. A tactical belt filled with gear and weapons was clasped around his waist.

"We haven't." Holt clasped his hand, wondering what their meeting was about.

"How about we take this conversation into my office?" Without waiting for Holt to answer, Foster turned around and started walking in the same direction he'd come from.

More curious than ever, Holt followed the security firm owner into an office that was as sparsely furnished as the waiting area had been. A plain chrome desk anchored the room. No rug or frills. A black swivel chair rested behind it, and a semi-circle of black vinyl chairs was arrayed in front of it.

Foster waved him toward the black vinyl chairs. "Take a load off. I have something I want to run past you." He moved behind his desk to take a seat and reached for a solid black folder — the only item on his desk other than his computer. He held the folder out to Holt. "I'm going to keep this simple. I'd like you to come to work for us."

Holt nearly dropped the folder. "Come again?" Of all the things he'd imagined Foster might say to him, a job offer didn't even make the list.

Foster leaned back in his chair. "K&G Security has grown quite a bit since my brother's death." His gaze darkened with pain as he explained. "This was his baby before his war injuries took him prematurely from this world."

Whew! That was tough. Holt's insides twisted with sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss, man."

"Thanks." Foster grimaced. "No disrespect intended, but the place was kind of a wreck when I took over." He waved a hand vaguely. "My brother had a hodgepodge of fellow soldiers on staff. Mostly Marines. Most of them messed up in the head from PTSD and other stuff. His business partner, Lyon Garrett, and I made a bunch of changes right off the bat, and now we manage security contracts all over Texas."

"Nice." Holt was impressed.

"Not bad for a jailbird, eh?" Foster gave him a sharp look.

Holt narrowed his gaze on the guy. "You or Lyon?"

"Me." Foster's voice was flat. "Figured you deserved to know that before we get any further in our discussion."

Holt wasn't sure what response Foster was expecting to that, so he motioned for him to continue. "I don't have a background in security." It bore mentioning in case Foster didn't know that.

"Yet you helped bring down one of the biggest criminal rings to ever darken this corner of Texas." Foster's voice was admiring. "You're honest and resourceful. You can think on your feet, and everybody I've spoken to about you says the same thing." His voice rose to a falsetto, as if jumping into the role of one of the people he'd spoken to about Holt. "He's the nicest guy."

Holt shrugged. "Customer service 101. I'm a car detail man."

"Nah, it's more than that." Foster shook his head, eyeing him shrewdly. "You've got what it takes, bro."

"To become a security guard?" The job didn't sound very appealing to Holt. "No thanks. Whoever told you I'm fearless is dead wrong. After that group of thugs abducted me, I've been way off my normal game. Don't sleep much at night. Can't breathe in small, enclosed spaces." He wasn't sure why he was spilling his guts to a perfect stranger, but there was just something about Foster that made him easy to talk to.

"Eh, maybe what I said was a poor choice of words." Foster didn't look the least bit deterred from his mission to recruit Holt. "Nobody with a lick of intelligence is fearless, but you are brave. Even you can't deny that."

Brave? Holt's eyebrows rose. "Did you miss the part about how much trouble I have breathing in small, enclosed spaces?" He had to drive his truck with the windows rolled down, for pity's sake.

"Nope." A faint smile tugged at Foster's mouth. "All I'm saying is that your fear didn't keep you from putting it all on the line to clear your stepfather's name. You had to know you were taking some pretty big risks, but you did it anyway."

"For somebody I care about." Holt couldn't imagine doing that for a security contract — not for any amount of money. "That's different from what y'all do here." Way different!

"Is it?" Foster leaned his forearms on the edge of his desk. "I know most of the citizens in this town, and I care deeply about their welfare. Once you've lived here long enough, the folks here will start feeling like family. Trust me."

"Maybe." Holt opened the folder. Time would tell. "What exactly are you asking me to do for your company?" He grew still at the paperwork resting inside the folder. The top page read, K&G Covert Ops .

"As you can see by the job proposal, we're more than a security firm these days, Holt. We've been doing private investigating on the side for the local police department, as well as the police departments in several surrounding towns. Enough for it to make sense for us to open a new department for covert operations."

Holt shook his head, picturing special forces soldiers low crawling through the jungles of South America. "I'm sorry," he closed the folder, "but you've got the wrong guy. I really am just a mechanic. No military experience. No jail time. Nothing that in any way qualifies me as tough."

"I disagree," Foster protested. "You're mentally tough, Holt. Learning the weapons side of things is the easy part."

"Whoa! Stop right there." Holt carried a concealed handgun sometimes, but that was it. "I have no interest in shooting anyone."

"Good." Foster looked pleased. "I don't want anyone coming to work for us who enjoys inflicting pain on others. We only use force when it's absolutely necessary. It's better to use your head to neutralize confrontations before they turn violent. My gut says this is something you'll prove to be skilled at. In time. With the proper training, of course."

Holt shook his head again, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

Before he could come up with a response, Foster stated a salary amount in a deadpan voice. "That's what we're willing to pay you to become the eyes and ears on the front lines of our newest department."

Holt nearly fell out of his chair. "Are you serious?" It was a lot of money. More than he'd ever made before. More than enough to apply for a loan to purchase the auto body shop he had his eye on. It was enough money, quite frankly, to do whatever he wanted.

"Very serious." Foster didn't rush to fill the lull in their conversation.

"Okay, I'll bite." Holt drew a deep breath. "Exactly what do you mean by eyes and ears?"

Foster grinned in triumph. It was as if he already knew he'd made an offer that Holt couldn't afford to turn down. "Exactly what it sounds like. You're a nice guy. Everybody likes and trusts you. You get around town, while handling your auto detailing jobs, and nobody questions your movements. All we're asking is for you to keep your eyes and ears open for the information we're seeking on any and all cases assigned to you. Whatever you find out, you report it back to us. That's it."

"Us?" Holt latched onto the word, wondering how many bosses he was signing up for.

"To me. To Lyon Garrett, my business partner. To any other security personnel you're assigned to work with." Foster made it sound so simple.

"There has to be more to it than that." Holt opened the folder again, scanning its contents.

"In time, yes, there's the potential for you to take on more responsibility within the firm," Foster agreed in the same mild voice. "In the meantime, we'll train you for undercover work — how to interrogate someone without them knowing they're being interrogated, how to use all kinds of security equipment, how to navigate our many channels of resources, that sort of thing. I think you'll find everything that we have in mind for this job to be right up your alley."

Holt wished he shared the guy's confidence. "For the salary you just quoted me, I want to say yes. I'd be a fool not to, but?—"

"Then say it," Foster interrupted, sitting forward. "The rest is just details." He rattled off a few of the benefits that would accompany working full time for K&G Security.

They included paid federal holidays, health insurance, and a retirement plan — all the stuff Holt didn't have while working for himself. He'd always figured he'd look into those things after he started making a more reliable income. But Foster Kane was offering all of it to him on the spot. Right here. Right now.

"Man, this is tempting," Holt groaned, hoping he wasn't about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

"It's supposed to be." Foster grinned.

"What if it doesn't turn out to be as good a fit for me as you're hoping?" Holt had to ask the question.

Foster shrugged. "There's an exit clause. It comes with a mandatory gag order if you sign it. No talking about our cases. No sharing the layout of our facility or the hierarchy of our organization with anyone ever."

"Or," Holt prodded.

"It's a violation of your contract, a prosecutable offense that could come with a hefty fine." Foster's voice was grave. "Even more concerning is the fact that you'd be putting innocent lives in danger — both our employees and our clients."

"I have no problem agreeing to that." The more Holt heard about the job, the more he liked it. K&G Security sounded like a company run by people with a strong sense of fairness and justice.

"Good. I can already tell you're gonna fit in here just fine." Foster pointed at the folder. "There's an employment contract in there. I'll pour us some coffee while you start reading and signing."

Nearly two hours clicked past before Holt left the building. He had a signed contract in the folder beneath his arm and a start date of today. Technically, he was already on the clock. A generous signing bonus was being deposited into his bank account as he walked to his truck. It almost felt too good to be true.

Except it wasn't. He'd just finished making one of the biggest commitments of his adult life. One that was going to change everything. Already, the sense of danger he'd experienced for the past several weeks was easing with each step that took him closer to his truck. It was downright empowering to be facing his fears, looking them in the eye, and spitting on them.

He was done being a victim. Done choking on his own air. Done soaking his sheets in a cold sweat every night.

Working for a security firm meant he had resources and connections. He was no longer alone, no longer a sitting duck waiting for the next shoe to drop.

His phone rang as he started the motor.

It was Bonnie. "You're killing me, Holt. It's literally been hours since you left the B&B."

He hit his speakerphone button, smiling, as he drove away from K&G Security and headed toward the highway. "They offered me a job. Can you believe it?"

She was silent for a moment before exclaiming, "Whoa! You don't sound like you're kidding!"

"I'm not."

"Details, details," she begged.

"That's all I can tell you, babe." He winced as the endearment slipped out. He hadn't meant to call her that out loud yet.

"Holt," she wailed, skipping right over his slip of the lip and making him wonder if she'd even heard it. "You can't keep me hanging like this."

He winced at the genuine frustration in her voice. "I wish it didn't have to be this way." He didn't like the idea of keeping secrets from her.

"No, really. You have to give me more than that." Her voice grew pleading.

"Can't. I signed a contract not to talk about my job." He truly wished he could tell her more, but a promise was a promise.

She chuckled bleakly. "So, uh…when do you start? Can you at least tell me that?"

"Yep. I'm already on the clock." His first case involved the current string of car thefts plaguing their town, something he didn't mind looking into, not one bit.

"What about your detailing business?"

Fortunately, that was a topic he could freely discuss with her. "I'll still be able to do that."

"Really? Will you have to go down to doing it part time?" she pressed.

"No." Man! It was hard not giving her direct answers. "I'll be doing both jobs."

"Wow!" She made a huffing sound. "Two full-time jobs! Will I ever see you again?"

"Yes," he assured huskily. "That's a promise."

"Okay." She blew out a resigned breath. "I guess on your busiest days, we can fall back to being pen pals."

"Or," he countered. "We can have it all. Hang out every chance we get. Text and call when we're apart. Email is cool, too."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she answered. "That sounds like more than pen pals, Holt."

"Yep." He hadn't exactly been subtle about wanting to date her. "I'm gunning to be your pen pal with boyfriend benefits, remember?"

She chuckled breathlessly. "You're very good at this arm twisting stuff."

He was grinning when they said their goodbyes. Yeah, they still had a few obstacles to overcome before they became a couple, but he was more confident than ever that they would succeed.

Eventually.

Not soon enough for him, though.