Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

" H ow are things at the Crawford residence?" Vaughn asked from across his desk at the LA office of Hudson Security.

I lifted a shoulder, still trying to hide my surprise that I'd been summoned to the office. We'd already had our weekly debriefing with the team, but Vaughn had asked me to come in alone. "Good."

"Good. Wedding plans going well? How big a team do you think you'll need?"

I glanced toward the windows, making some rough estimates based on what I knew so far. "It's a pretty big guest list. Many high-profile."

The principal, Nate Crawford, was a huge celebrity. Actor and producer. His engagement to Emerson Thorne had nearly broken the internet and given me a damn heart attack.

That said, I hadn't been all that surprised. By the engagement—sure. But the fact that Nate and Emerson were attracted to each other had been obvious from the start.

She was a famous Olympic athlete. And the two of them together had the internet salivating for details. Everyone was invested in their love story. Their wedding. Everything about them.

If it was exhausting for me at times, being on the periphery, I couldn't imagine how they handled it. But they did—with grace and generosity.

"I figured," he mused, running a hand over his chin. "It'll be a logistical nightmare. But that's why they hired us. We can handle it."

I agreed, though I wasn't looking forward to it. Too many people. Too many variables. Too many other executive protection teams fighting to be top dog. Too much fucking politics.

That was a big reason why I'd switched to a residential security team, as opposed to a movement team, over a year ago. I liked the challenge of defending my client's castle, so to speak.

I moved about the city with them to local, smaller events. And I'd even accompanied Nate and his family to Abu Dhabi. But it had only served to remind me of how many variables I had to account for. How many things could go wrong.

"I was thinking about asking Ghost to handle it," Vaughn said, referring to my colleague Nicholas. Ghost was his call sign, like Blackjack was mine.

While some of my coworkers had joked that it was because of my love of sailing or cards, I'd been given the call sign by my fellow SEALs. A blackjack was a weapon. A small but powerful lead-filled club with a flexible handle.

"Has the Crawford family asked for a change?"

Had I done something wrong? Had Graham finally decided to do something about me? I knew he remembered me. I knew he knew who I was, even if he'd never said anything.

"No." Vaughn dragged a hand over his head. "Nothing like that. I just…" He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I could use your expertise for a different project."

I frowned. Why did I get the feeling I was being reassigned? It made no sense. I had a great rapport with the Crawford family.

"We have a client who has been receiving threats."

I arched an eyebrow as Vaughn slid me a folder across the desk. I opened it and scanned the threats. Nothing too gruesome, but I could understand the client's concern. Still…that didn't explain why Vaughn had sought my "expertise," as he'd put it. Any number of our agents were qualified to analyze threats and offer guidance. Hell, a lot of them were more qualified than me.

As a Navy SEAL, I'd been trained and tested with my skills in combat diving, land combat, parachute jumping, and Naval Special Warfare. I had other training, both from my time in the Navy and at Hudson. I could certainly analyze a threat, but some of my colleagues were better equipped and suited to do so.

"No idea where they came from?" I asked, holding up a copy of one of the notes.

Vaughn shook his head, and I waited for him to tell me where exactly I came in.

He interlaced his fingers. "The client wants to take a sailing trip and has agreed to protection."

I frowned. "What do you mean…has agreed to protection? They're not currently under protection?"

"New client. Sort of. Family referral. I sent Disco to keep an eye on things in the meantime." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "Anyway, you were the first person who came to mind, considering your experience. Are you interested?"

"How long?"

"Two months."

Wow. A two-month sailing trip sounded like heaven, even if it technically would be for work. I'd always loved being on the water, the horizon the only thing ahead of me beyond endless ocean.

"What's the proposed route?"

He handed me his tablet, and I scrolled through the plans. Holy shit. The more I read, the more excited I grew.

It was a dream trip. Sailing down the Thorny Path from Miami through the Bahamas and the Turks and Caicos Islands. Puerto Rico. Virgin Islands.

"What kind of craft? How many crew?" I asked, my eyes never leaving the screen.

"Thirty-five-foot sailboat. No crew."

I jerked my head back. "No crew?"

"It can be sailed by one person."

"I know, but…" Most of Hudson's clients weren't the type to sail a trip like that alone. They had yachts and crew and… My curiosity was certainly piqued. Even so… "That's a small boat for two people. I assume it would be just the two of us."

"Correct."

I nodded, considering. Wealthy. Experienced sailor. It wasn't their first rodeo if they were willing to take on that journey alone.

I leaned back in my chair. "Let me get this straight. You want to pay me to spend two months sailing the Caribbean with a client."

"Yes."

I'd had some cool assignments—some really shitty ones too. But this had to be one of the best ones I'd been offered. Even so, I was hesitant.

"It's close quarters. What if we don't get along?"

"Make sure you do."

I scoffed. We both knew that was easier said than done. Some of our clients could be a real pain in the ass. Not the Crawfords, of course. But others. They could be demanding, condescending. Didn't listen. Didn't heed our advice or warnings.

"And after?" I asked, assuming the client and I didn't kill each other.

"New York."

"New York," I repeated, as if to confirm it.

"We've been watching you—Maverick, the leadership. You're smart. Hardworking. You play your cards right with this assignment, and the New York office is yours."

Say what? I blinked a few times, positive I'd misheard him.

After everything I'd been through—being discharged from the SEALs, working as a bouncer, finding my way to Hudson—this felt like a redemption of sorts.

"What about Wyatt?" I asked.

We'd all heard that Clay, the director of the New York office, was retiring. But surely Wyatt, his second-in-command, would take over.

"Wyatt's going to open our new office in London."

Well, shit. I sank back against my chair, resting my ankle on my knee. This would be a huge promotion—and a dream come true.

"New York," I said again.

I rubbed the back of my neck. I hadn't been to New York, apart from a few work trips with a client, in nearly a decade. My thoughts went to Sloan, as they often did. I couldn't think about New York without thinking of her.

I hadn't seen or spoken to her in years—at least, not until our paths had crossed in Abu Dhabi a few months ago. She'd visited Nate a few times in the past year, but I'd always been on vacation. Or I'd let my team handle it.

Her Abu Dhabi visit had been unexpected, and her sudden appearance had stirred unwelcome feelings. Reminding me of a past I couldn't change and a future that would never be.

"Jackson?" Vaughn asked, tearing me away from thoughts of Sloan.

The way her skirt had wrapped around her hips—more generous than they'd been in the past. Her hair had been different too. As had the way she'd looked at me—with shock that had quickly turned into a mask of cold indifference.

"Hm?" I met his gaze.

He assessed me with a quizzical expression. "I thought you'd be more excited."

I cleared my throat and straightened, trying to mask my shock. "Yes. Yes, of course I am. I just…" I dragged a hand over my head, the short strands bristling against my palm. "Surprised, that's all. I mean…head of the New York office. That's one hell of a promotion."

It's what I'd been working toward, wanting, for years. The chance to lead not just a team but an entire office. After how everything had gone down with the SEALs, I didn't know if anyone would ever trust me to lead a unit again. Maverick's, and especially Vaughn's, faith in me was humbling and gratifying. He'd been my mentor for over a decade, and I knew he was just as invested in my success as I was.

"You'd be damn good at it."

I was still in shock but somehow had the presence of mind to say, "Thank you."

I couldn't believe it. He was offering me the chance to take on a leadership role at the highest levels of the company. The chance to honor my father and finally live up to his legacy. Not to mention the fact that I'd be closer to my sister and her family, as well as my mom. Considering my mom's recent stroke, this couldn't have come at a better time. She was going to be so happy when I told her.

"Is this your subtle way of telling me I'm getting too old for field work?" I teased, though Vaughn had been determined to see me advance in the company.

"Blackjack, you were too old five years ago." We both knew that wasn't true, even if I was forty-four.

"What's Nate going to think?" I asked.

I'd been protecting his family for almost a year now. I felt like part of the family at times, even though I did my best to maintain a professional distance. They had always been welcoming, especially his twelve-year-old daughter, Brooklyn.

"Nate wants you to take this client. He specifically requested you."

"He did?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "Who is it?"

"One of his cousins."

Nate had a lot of cousins, though he was closest to the ones on his mom's side. They were more like siblings. Surely Vaughn wasn't referring to Graham, Jasper, or…I swallowed hard. Sloan. Right?

My heart rate ratcheted up at the thought of Sloan. Technically, she was Nate's cousin, but he'd always referred to her as his sister. Sloan did love sailing. But… No. Surely not.

"Nate trusts you," Vaughn continued. "That speaks volumes."

Vaughn was right. Nate's trust wasn't easily given. So, for him to request that I be reassigned to his cousin—a cousin who hopefully wasn't Sloan—meant he was entrusting them to my care. And that soothed some of the sting from the fact that I would no longer lead his residential team.

I'd be crazy to turn down an opportunity like this. The sailing trip alone… I was still trying to wrap my head around it. All of it.

I was a little rusty—at least for a trip of that duration. But I knew it would come back to me quickly. It always did.

"Here's the file." Vaughn passed it to me.

I opened the folder, and oh fuck. I went completely still. There she was, staring back at me as if my thoughts had conjured her.

"Sloan?" I choked on her name. "Sloan Mackenzie is the client?" My eyes flashed to his, seeking confirmation. I supposed this shouldn't have been a huge surprise, but fuck.

Vaughn furrowed his brow. "Why? You know her? Apart from her connection to Nate."

Images flashed through my mind. Her coy smile as she straddled me. Her head tilted back in ecstasy as I thrust into her. Lazy days spent in bed talking about everything and nothing.

"We…" I blew out a breath. "Yeah. She's my little sister's best friend."

Yes, I knew Sloan. But once upon a time, she'd known me—better than anyone ever had.

Which was why I found myself saying, "Maybe you should send someone else. Cujo or any of the other former SEALs."

Connor James, or "Cujo," was a former Navy SEAL like me, but I doubted he wanted to leave his wife for two months when she was nearing the end of her pregnancy.

Vaughn shook his head. "Nate specifically requested you."

I scratched at my jaw. "That's great, but what about Sloan?"

"What about her?" he asked, being deliberately obtuse.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, narrowing his eyes at me. I knew he was waiting for me to elaborate.

I considered how best to phrase it. How to explain who Sloan was to me. I wasn't sure I could.

"Look, it's clear from your reaction that you guys have some…history. But how long has it been since you've seen her?" he asked.

If you didn't count Abu Dhabi… "Fourteen years." Though the moment I'd seen her in Abu Dhabi, the past hadn't felt that long ago.

Vaughn waved a hand through the air. "Water under the bridge."

I swallowed hard at the thought of seeing her, spending so much time alone with her. Maybe Vaughn was right. Fourteen years was a long time. She'd probably moved on.

She had moved on, if her file was anything to go by.

No children. Never married. I assumed that was because Sloan was focused on her career. But who the hell knew.

Even if I hadn't skimmed the file, I knew from Greer that Sloan was in a relationship. And wasn't that a fucking punch to the gut. Maybe I was the only one who was stuck in the past.

"Is your past going to be a problem?"

Not a fucking clue.

I didn't want to think it would be. I was a professional, but it was a fucking sailboat. With Sloan. For two months.

Vaughn leaned back, and I got the feeling he was reading between the lines. Finally, he said, "Maybe you can use your previous…acquaintance to establish trust with the principal."

I barked out a laugh. He didn't know what I'd done. I was pretty sure Sloan would never forgive me, let alone trust me.

"Come on, Blackjack." He frowned. "It can't be that bad."

It's worse.

I thought back to that night. The night I'd left, even though it had nearly killed me. And then again, at my sister's wedding and the way Sloan had looked at me. With more coldness than I'd thought she could ever possess.

But now that I knew the threats were directed at Sloan, anger surged in my veins. I would hunt the fucker down and make them pay.

"Why's she being threatened? Who are her enemies?" I skimmed through the notes, trying to understand the assessment. "It doesn't make any sense. People have always loved Sloan."

"You're only proving my point. You're perfect for this assignment." He leaned forward. "We're still trying to figure that out. Maybe you could get her to talk."

"Pretty sure I'm the last person she'll want to talk to," I said, mostly to myself.

"I suggest you find a way to make it work if you want that promotion." He stood, and I followed suit.

I was determined not to fail. "I won't let you down." Or Nate.

Or Sloan. I gripped the file.

I wondered if Graham knew about this. I wondered if he was okay with it. I'd encountered him a few times over the past year, but he never acted like he recognized me, even though I was positive he knew exactly who I was.

Vaughn clapped a hand on my shoulder, guiding me to the door. "I know you won't. The Crawford and Mackenzie families give Hudson a ton of business, both as clients themselves and in referrals. They may not always like us or what we have to say, but our job is to keep them safe." He gave my shoulder a squeeze before releasing me.

"Of course." He wasn't saying anything I didn't already know.

"Good. Wrap up with the Crawfords then take a few days to prepare for your trip. The principal will arrive in New York on the twenty-sixth. You can meet at the Huxley Grand since the Crawfords and their team will be traveling there for Emerson's work engagement."

"Great," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Their team. As in the one I'd no longer be part of. "Thank you again for the opportunity. I'll get to work on logistics."

"Call if you need anything."

I nodded, but my mind was still trying to catch up. I was leaving the Crawfords—potentially for good. Taking a two-month sailing trip with Sloan to some of the places we'd always dreamed of.

Regardless of the weather forecast, I had a feeling the voyage would be anything but smooth.