Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(75)

Ruth sighs. "There are some very sick f*ckers in the world."

Brad surprises me by laughing. "The mouth on this one."

Ruth gives him a grudging smile. His laughter turns infectious. My fingers go to my lips where I find a smile.

"Have you ever killed an innocent person?" Marx asks, determined to ruin the good mood.

I give Marx a hard look from my dead eyes while Brad frowns.

"Why would you ask her that?"

"I'm curious to know if she's ever harmed someone innocent while doing her job. I guess I want to know if I'm in any danger. "

"I can say with all certainty that if I kill you, it will not be on accident," I say without a hint of humor. "I will, of course, make it look like an accident for the authorities."

"You're funny," Marx says, holding my gaze.

I refuse to get into a staring contest with an insecure man. Focusing my gaze on Brad, I find him amused by how I taunt Marx.

"All these years," I say, poking at my food, "the authorities must have examined the show for clues to find these people. The files claim a criminal profiler wrote an opinion on the cult. I don't need to know the why or where. I only need to understand they're the enemy. When they come, I'll deal with them. More might come, and I'll deal with them. Eventually, there won't be any more of them, and the problem will be solved."

Marx exhales hard. "That simple?"

"Yes," I mutter, focusing my gaze on Brad again. "These people are essentially stalkers, and stalkers have specific behaviors. The interviews and Brad's reappearance have triggered them. When I deal with a few of them, the others might want to crawl back into their holes again. You'll simply lure them back out by doing another interview until they're all gone."

"Deal with them?" Ruth asks. "What does that mean exactly?"

I glance at her. "You hired my firm for a specific reason. I won't say what you want me to say, but we both know you could have hired someone with better personal skills than I have to do this work. Instead, I'm here."

Ruth gives me a slight smile. "Understood."

I continue picking at my food, not recognizing the clumpy white stuff. I think maybe it's oatmeal, but who eats that for dinner?

"It's grits," Brad says, watching me.

I realize everyone is staring at me now. Ruth smiles and pats my hand.

"Before this is over, we'll teach you all about Southern cooking, Saskia."

I take a scoop of grits on my fork and eye it warily while bringing the food to my mouth.

"It's okay not to like it," Brad says, and I flash him a dirty look.

Rather than seem offended, he smiles. They watch me take the bite and chew.

"It's good," I say.

Brad grins at Ruth. "She doesn't get grits."

"It can be an acquired taste."

"I said it's good."

"You're not a great liar, though," Brad says.

Frowning at him, I'm actually offended by his statement. I make my living by being able to lie directly to someone's face.

Brad smiles at my anger. Despite the earlier moment when he backed down, he's full of confidence now. I ignore him watching me and try to finish the grits.

"Do your dogs stay inside at night?" I ask, wanting the attention away from my eating habits.

"Depends on their moods," Ruth says.

"I'd like them to remain inside, if possible. I plan to install motion sensors around the property. I'll pick up plenty of false positives from the wild animals in the area, but keeping the dogs inside will reduce the number."

Nodding, Ruth glances at Brad. They again share a silent conversation while Marx repeatedly glances at me.

"What would you do if they busted through the front gate right now?" the author asks.

"Call my team and the police. While waiting for them to arrive, I'd eliminate anyone I viewed as a threat. Why, what would you do?"

Brad laughs. "He'd probably piss himself in the corner."

"How about you, big man?" Marx asks, frowning.

"I'd hide behind Mom and her big gun," Brad says, eliciting laughter from Ruth and Nell. Smiling at me, he adds, "After all, I'm easily frightened and need protecting by strong women."

Once again, Brad challenges me. I want to respond but can't think of a single thing to say when he's watching me with his devious gaze. Focusing on my plate, I panic a little at my new situation. While my killer instinct only cares about finishing the job, my heart craves nothing more than to stare at the handsome man making me squirm.





5


Brad

Don't Laugh at the Scary Lady

Saskia moves silently through the house, checking all of the doors before going to bed. Watching her, I remember the funny look on her beautiful face when she tried the grits. I smile at the memory, still surprised she'd never tried it before. Her expression at dinner made me think she'll never try grits again.

I'm so focused on Saskia that I don't think about the possible threats lurking in the darkness. For the first time in years, I feel truly alive and aggressively male. All because of a feisty redhead.

By dinner, I've gotten over my earlier anxiety about being around her. No longer feeling like a loser, I teased Saskia. I wasn't sure if I pissed her off or offended her. I only knew I saw a crack in her icy exterior.