The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(3)

The Range Rover idled in the gravel drive of their two-story home, the engine warming while Alex conducted the daily fire drill to get CJ out of bed and out the door in time for school. This morning, a Thursday, Alex tutored students who needed help in math, which added to the stress. Jenkins made CJ’s daily lunch and ensured his backpack was organized and near the front door so he could run without feeling completely guilty.

“CJ, come on! We’re going to be late.” Alex stood in the doorway, yelling into the house, her tone already one of exasperation.

Jenkins heard CJ’s reply from somewhere inside. “I can’t find my soccer cleats.”

“That’s because you left them in the car,” Jenkins said under his breath.

“They’re in the car where you left them,” Alex shouted.

“Do you have my lunch?” Jenkins said softly.

“I can’t find my lunch,” CJ said. “Do you have it?”

“Yes,” Alex said, clutching the brown paper bag.

“Where’s your jacket?” Jenkins whispered. “I don’t need one. Yes, you do. It’s thirty-eight degrees. Grab the jacket off the hook.”

“Where’s your jacket?” Alex asked when CJ ran out the door. The boy wore shorts and a T-shirt.

“I don’t need one.”

“It’s freezing out. Grab your down jacket off the hook.”

CJ ran back inside and returned with his jacket. The boy was all arms and legs, tallest in his class—which was to be expected with a father Jenkins’s height and a mother half an inch over five foot ten. He looked like a mixture of Alex’s Hispanic heritage and Charlie’s African American roots. He even had his father’s green eyes—likely from a recessive gene passed down from Jenkins’s distant Louisiana ancestors.

CJ ran past Jenkins. “Hi Dad. Bye Dad.”

“Kiss your father,” Jenkins said.

CJ returned and allowed Jenkins to kiss him atop the head. “Have a good day at school.” CJ turned for the car. Jenkins followed. The boy climbed into the back seat. “Any more trouble with that boy?” Jenkins asked.

“No, it’s fine.”

“If there’s a problem, you call. You remember the code?”

“Yes,” CJ said, sounding impatient as he buckled in.

“What is it?” Old habits die hard. Jenkins had a family code, just as he’d had a code when he’d worked in Mexico City, in case the shit ever hit the fan and they needed one another’s help.

“Dad . . .”

“We’re wasting time.”

“How’s Lou?” CJ sighed.

“He’s sleeping at the moment.”

“Could you wake him?”

“If it’s important.”

“It is.”

Jenkins tousled CJ’s hair. “Good boy.” He shut the door.

Alex rolled her eyes. “He’d forget his feet if they weren’t attached to his legs. And the doctor wonders why I have high blood pressure.”

“You’re going in for a checkup today?”

“At two.”

Alex was twenty-three weeks pregnant, and her last doctor’s visit revealed that she had high blood pressure, which the doctor said explained her headaches and upper abdominal pain. He’d diagnosed preeclampsia and told her to slow down and take it easy. The only cure for preeclampsia was to deliver the baby, and Alex was nowhere near term. Jenkins had taken over all the bookkeeping and administration of CJ Security from Alex, in addition to performing the fieldwork. They’d named the family business after their son.

Jenkins kissed her. “Promise me you won’t overdo it, Alex.”

“I won’t. They have a desk and chair in the classroom for the pregnant lady.” She got behind the wheel and buckled in. “Have you spoken with Randy?”

“Alex . . .”

“I’ll have less stress if you tell me you have.”

“I have a call in to him.”

“How much do they owe us?”

“Let me handle it. I’m sure we’ll get paid by the end of the month.”

“I think you should tell them you’re pulling everybody out until they’re current. That would get their attention.”

“I’m sure it would. Don’t stress about it. The doctor said stress isn’t good for the pregnant lady.”

CJ shouted from the back seat. “I’m going to be late, Mom.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now he’s worried.” She kissed Jenkins and shut her car door. “Call Randy,” she said, lowering her window and speaking as she drove away. “Give him until the end of the week. Tell him he’s stressing out a pregnant lady and if I go postal, he’s first on my list.”

Jenkins smiled and called after her. “I’ll let him know.”

The Range Rover spit gravel as Alex navigated the center turn around the large sequoia and drove toward the asphalt road.

CJ Security provided services for the Seattle-based investment company LSR&C. The company’s CFO, Randy Traeger, was a fellow soccer parent who had approached Jenkins after learning that Jenkins had security experience working for Seattle attorney David Sloane and his clients. Traeger explained that LSR&C was expanding quickly, with satellite offices in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York, and that it intended to expand overseas. Jenkins could coordinate much of the security work—protecting employees as well as wealthy clients who visited the office—by phone, thereby avoiding commuting an hour and a half in ever-worsening Seattle traffic.