CHAPTER ONE

The man who had introduced himself as Calhoun Caldwell had a powerful handshake. His looks matched the handshake. There was a very arrogant look about him. His hair was the color of silver and his expensive suit matched it perfectly. The cool blue of his eyes matched his tie. He either had the fashion sense of a GQ editor or paid someone to dress him. Since Calhoun Caldwell was one of the richest industrialists in L.A. this was quite probable.

“Take a seat while I get you some coffee, Mister Calhoun,” I said and went out the door of my office, to the coffee machine at the end of the hall. A few minutes later I returned with two Styrofoam cups filled with coffee, pitch-black, bloody hot and strong enough to power alkaline batteries. Just the way I liked it. By the way he squinted his eyes and pulled his mouth when he took a sip I could tell Caldwell   didn’t share my taste in coffee. I offered him some sugar but he declined, diabetic, he told me.

“All right, sir. What can I do for you?” I asked and settled in my chair.

Caldwell leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of my desk. “I need protection for my daughter when she goes to her prom.”

I laughed. “You want me to do what?”

“I thought I was speaking very clearly to you, Mr. Milano. I said I wanted you to bodyguard my daughter when she goes to her prom,” he repeated, an annoyed look on his face.

“I’m a security specialist, not a chaperon,” I told him.

“Listen to me, I want to hire you. Just for one night,” he urged. “Money is not the object.”

I always liked it when they said that. Hey, I’m not greedy but I’ve got to pay my rent. And I was two months behind.

“All right. It’s your money. Is there a reason you think your daughter might need protection?” I asked.

Caldwell’s face changed suddenly. A very sad and earnest look washed over the arrogant one. “My wife was kidnapped three years ago,” he said. “The kidnappers killed her when she tried to escape them.”

I remembered now. It had been all over the news back then. Strange, though, how you can forget things like that so quickly. My dad complained about the way that kidnapping went. Said it was typical of independent operators to fuck up a simple kidnapping like that. My old man didn’t tolerate thugs who operated without his permission much.

“ I am not going to take that risk with my daughter, Mr. Milano. Normally I’ve got a bodyguard of my own to keep an eye on her, but Ty is in the hospital. Food poisoning. So I need someone to fill in for him tomorrow night.”

“So you came to me. Why me? Was it the wonderful ad in the trade press? My good reputation?”

“No. I called every agency in the book. You were the only one who could take the job on such short notice.” My ego deflated like a hot air balloon.

“Lucky me,” I said. “I guess you hired yourself a security specialist then, Mr. Caldwell.” I got up and shook his hand. His handshake was even stronger then before now. He looked me straight in the eyes. The cold stare in it spooked me a little.

“I know about your father. If you fuck with me I’ll make sure you never work in this city again.” The words came out very deliberately.

I nodded. I wanted to tell him to take his business elsewhere if he didn’t like my dad, but if I had to do that every time someone made a comment like that I wouldn’t  have any clients at all. Besides, I wasn’t too crazy about my dad either.

“Don’t worry. I like women, not men.” I assured him. It took a few moments for my joke to register with him. When it did he frowned instead of laughed.

"Very funny, Mr. Milano. Very funny," he said dryly. I thought it was too.