Harley (West Coast Rock Star #1)

BOOK: Harley (West Coast Rock Star #1)
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Harley

 

 

By Michelle Jo Quinn

 

 

 

Harley

 

Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Jo Quinn.

All rights reserved.

First Print Edition: January 2016

 

 

Limitless Publishing, LLC

Kailua, HI 96734

www.limitlesspublishing.com

 

Formatting: Limitless Publishing

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-452-3

ISBN-10: 1-68058-452-9

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

 

Dedication

 

This is dedicated to the rock stars in my life,

Joe, Ethan, and Violet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Cade received the call that could change her life forever, which brought her rushing back to her office with a number of scenarios in her head. Why was she being summoned to a meeting with the boss? This could be her chance at finding the truth.

Her heart beat erratically as she took the steps two at a time, but she still wasn’t fast enough. It helped that she was above average height and obsessed at hitting the gym. Once she reached the top landing, Cade smoothed her hair and made sure she appeared less disgruntled than she actually felt. She grasped the door handle, pushed as much air into her lungs as she could, let out an unwomanly grunt, and willed her heartbeat to slow down before proceeding. It would take seven long strides to get to her destination once she walked through. Relenting to the nervous energy following her, trying to suffocate her, she closed her eyes and pushed the door open.

The silence was not unusual in the large modern office space, but this time, it unnerved Cade.

Juliette, the receptionist and the only friendly face in the workplace, waved at her, pointed to the black earpiece hidden under her fiery red hair, then flicked her thumb over her shoulder. She offered her friend a small smile. Cade rolled her shoulders back and raised her chin. Juliette unknowingly had given her the courage she needed to keep going.

Cade had waited for the call for almost two years. It was time Mac gave her a chance, and Cade was determined to do everything she could to gain the man’s approval.

The seven steps took longer than usual, she could feel all eyes on her even though she knew that if she looked around, no one would be staring directly at her. This was, after all, Mackinley Security, the Navy Seal of personal security, bodyguards, private investigators, and other private, covert operations. The men and women, including sweet Juliette, were trained combat fighters, martial arts experts, sharp shooters, and overall badasses. She wrapped her clammy hand over Mac’s doorknob before knocking. Without hearing a word, she opened the frosted glass door.

“I got the message,” she said without preamble. It was business as usual after all, and an important one at that. She had waited a long time for Mac to give her a chance at an assignment.

Noah “Mac” Mackinley, the former US Army colonel, who, in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, no tie, and a short haircut, dressed like any other casual businessman, looked up from the file he was reading. He was a serious man who carried around an air of distinction. A small smirk lifted the sides of his mouth. “Good afternoon to you as well, Miss Williams.”

“Um, yes, sorry…good afternoon, Mac.” Cade tried not to fidget. She was good at keeping it together. Usually.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Mac waved a large hand to a leather chair in front of his sleek desk. “Zee will brief you.”

As Cade took a step toward the chair, a movement to her left caught her eye. She hadn’t even realized there was another person in the room, and Zee was a hard man to miss. She chalked it up to her bubbling anxiety. The large man, dressed in all black, nodded a greeting. She returned it the same way, then sat down, back straight, shoulders squared, tensed hands over her shaking knees. She waited for either man to talk.

It was Zee’s voice she heard first. “The subject is high profile.” He handed her a red folder. As Cade read, Zee continued, “Harley Buxton Clark. Age eight. Female…daughter of Fiona Buxton-Vanderlee and Jackson “Jax” Clark. Currently homeschooled.”

All the facts were in the file. She had no idea why the eight-year-old was high profile. She made a mental note to do extra research. But the fact she was being assigned to a kid couldn’t stop her from saying, “You’re making me babysit?” She stared straight at Mac.

“We are a security company, not a nanny service,” Mac replied.

“But you asked me. As far as I know this is our youngest assignment and you asked me. Why? Because I’m a woman?” Cade tried to level her voice. She couldn’t help it if her eyes revealed hurt.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Mac said. Although he asked a question, his tone of voice told her he didn’t require an answer.

But Cade was hurt and pissed off. Yes, she waited for this chance. To prove to Mac that she was just as good as the people who worked in the field. To let him know she wasn’t just a spectacular researcher—she had completed numerous physical trainings and mental tests required by the company. She trained with men twice her size, sparred and even won over many of her colleagues. She had strength, agility, quick reflexes, and mental acuity. Plus she had the advantage of being the top researcher of Mackinley Security.

“I am not a babysitter,” she stubbornly spat.

Mac closed the file in front of him and looked at her. That eagle-eye focus was unnerving. “Yes, you are a woman. Yes, your assignment is an eight-year-old girl. You have waited for this chance and I chose to give it. I chose you. I could have pulled Jill from her current assignment but it would be unjust to her and her client. Or asked Penny to come back earlier from her honeymoon, but that would also be unfair. I am nothing but fair. I doubt an eight-year-old would be delighted to let a man like Zee or Evan watch over her. I have selected you for this…or should I have asked Juliette?”

Cade opened her mouth, then thought better of it. A photo was enclosed in the little girl’s file. A curly-haired brunette with innocent brown eyes and a smattering of freckles on her pert nose smiled back at her. Having no siblings, cousins who she saw once every five to ten years, and aunts and uncles who were long gone, Cade had no experience with children. Even her own childhood seemed surreal. Being a military brat constantly travelling with her parents left her friendless and awkward at social gatherings. In the two years she had lived in Vancouver, a city of over half a million diverse people, she had managed to befriend only one person. No, Juliette was the one who befriended her. Her grandmother, pushing on eighty years, was the person she considered her best friend.

“I await your decision, Miss Williams.” Mac’s voice pulled her out of her trance.

She rubbed a finger over the little girl’s face. “Yes, of course, I accept.”

“Just as I thought. Here are the facts, Miss Williams. Zee will be guarding Mr. Jackson Clark. Since this is your first rodeo, you will be directly under his supervision.” Cade lifted an eyebrow at the large man leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window. The man lifted a square chin at her, letting her know he would not accept anything less than perfect. Mac continued, “You are to start this afternoon. Go home, change into something appropriate, and you will be picked up at 1600 hours. Any other questions you may direct to Zee.” Mac opened the file on his desk again without looking at either of his employees. It was understood that the meeting was over.

 

***

 

“You’re not going to embarrass me, are you, Cade?” Zee asked as they sat in a black sedan, his large build swallowing the entire front passenger side of the car. Cade was sure he changed his clothes even though he was still dressed in a similar black suit as he wore before. Zee was a perfectionist. Every ‘t’ crossed, every ‘i’ dotted. His peers considered him employee of the month even though no such thing existed in their workplace. He garnered everyone’s trust and adoration, including Mac’s. Cade should consider it a great opportunity to be working with the man, but Zee made her uneasy. Of the entire team, Zee had never warmed up to her. She felt he always kept an eye on her, waiting for her to screw up so he could immediately report to Mac, who would then terminate her without another word. She knew little of the man, could never read his face—not that she ever saw Zee show any other emotion than intimidation—much like Cade’s own father. A thought that made her more wary of the man.

“Have I ever lacked in my work, Zee? I’m sure you’ve asked around the office. I’m thorough and a perfectionist like you.” Her voice was level.

“I am nothing like you, kid.” She thought she heard an almost laugh.

“Whatever you say, Zee, or should I address you as ‘sir’?”

“Zee will do.” He was definitely mocking her.

“Got it.” And before a slight bravado left her, she said to the back of his head, “And don’t ever call me kid again.” This time she was sure she heard a low chuckle.

After a few more minutes, Cade found herself outside a recently erected, modern waterfront building. She walked in with Zee, watched him shake another man’s hand and exchange a few words with him, then she followed him to the elevator banks. Zee inserted a key card into a panel on the wall and two seconds later the doors opened. Zee didn’t have to press any buttons before Cade felt the elevation.

“You will get a card too once the client approves of you,” Zee stated. Not once in the thirty minutes they had driven and been together did he look in her eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘approve’?”

“Just what it sounds like. Mr. Clark has to okay you. I have worked with him before. He…doesn’t say much. You don’t need to impress him with words. I’ll do all the talking.”

When the doors opened, Zee walked casually inside a penthouse suite with gleaming white stone floors, expansive windows that brought the light in, and boasted the most incredible view of the ocean. The open concept main floor was divided by furniture in black and white, made of leather and glass: a semi-circular sofa, and clear square tables in various sizes. In the middle of the large room, black leather winged chairs were gathered around a massive fireplace in the corner on top of a patchwork cowhide rug. To the right was the white kitchen with shiny, possibly unused appliances along the wall and a cement slab island, with leather white barstools lined along its length. To the left was a set of what seemed to be floating wooden stairs, and past that was a hallway.

The size of the place was an absurdity and it screamed filthy rich beyond what Cade could imagine. But she couldn’t help but wonder how on earth a child could live in it. Even without being around children, she knew what they could be like, unless the father treated his home like a barracks and the family like soldiers. Cade had grown up spotless, neat, tidy, and well organized. A clean freak. But in her younger years, before understanding that having filthy hands meant an hour facing the wall, cleaning the floors with a toothbrush, or even being sent to bed without dinner, she had jumped on puddles, ate melting Popsicles under the sun, and rolled down a grassy hill. Maybe at eight, Harley Buxton Clark was also a trained clean freak.

A clicking noise approached them. It belonged to a pair of five-inch stiletto heels worn by a tight-lipped, pale-skinned, stick woman. She was so skinny Cade thought for sure she would break her femur just by exerting pressure on it while she walked. Her rouged lips formed into a smile, which Cade thought was supposed to be endearing, but it was all toothy and just scary.

“Mr. Arnold, thank you for coming so soon.” As if she only noticed Cade at that moment, her facial features morphed into something sour. “And who is this?”

“Ms. Joyce, meet Cade Williams. She is Mr. Mackinley’s choice.”

She wanted to sneer at him. Zee wanted to play it safe. If the client didn’t approve of her, the blame would only be placed on Mac. Being professional was of the utmost importance, so she forgot about berating Zee and extended her hand to Ms. Joyce. The woman blinked once, then opened her eyes into narrow slits. Cade had seen this same type of perusal from other women before. She had never understood it. Cade kept her appearance simple with her usual low ponytail, makeup-free face and standard black pantsuit that she knew full well was a size too big on her, letting it fall over her body instead of hugging her curves.

“What kind of girl’s name is Cade?”

In her peripherals, she noticed Zee tense. Cade was known in the office to speak her mind, talk back without a thought. Staying professional was of the utmost importance, also factoring the short conversation she had with Zee earlier, Cade withdrew her hand and plastered a toothless smile on her face.

“What indeed?” a deep voice echoed in the white space.

Upon hearing it, the thin woman turned around. Without her blocking the source of that voice, Cade felt a sharp tug in her chest when she saw the tall man who stalked in bare feet toward them. He wore a white cotton shirt and faded, well-fitting jeans. The getup was all about comfort but the entire package—the black hair shaved on the sides and long on top, the easy swagger, muscles lengthening and bulging on his arms as he swayed them around—was entirely sexy. As he stood mere inches from Cade, she was able to drown herself in his manly spicy scent, admire his high wattage smile, and the smoldering glare that bordered on assault, Cade knew she was facing Jackson Clark.

Her training kicked in. She pushed away all other thoughts and emotions so nothing was left but the sense of safety and security. Her eyes remained in contact with his. She felt unprepared, and mentally kicked herself for not making time, even a little, to research the client more, and the uncomfortable awkwardness between her and Zee in the car didn’t give her a chance to ask questions. There was unease deep inside her, a strange thought that, if given the chance, she would know more about him, enticing the wisdom out of his mouth every which way she could.

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