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Authors: Aimée Thurlo
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knew precisely how that look could make even the most sensible of women go a little crazy inside, she forced herself to look back down the street.
“It’s not going to happen,” she said firmly, pretending to be watching traffic.
“What?”
“You’re not going to charm me, or tempt me to forget I’m here on business,” she said.
“You’re wound too tight,” he said, chuckling. “I’m just being myself.”
She didn’t answer. She liked Paul way too much and he knew it. If she didn’t keep her guard up, she’d end up in a world of trouble.
Chapter Six
They arrived at Paul’s second-story apartment a short while later. “Living above a coffee shop has definite advantages,” she said, noting the wonderful aromas that filled the air as they climbed the flight of stairs. “How did you find such an interesting place?”
“The apartment belongs to Nick’s dad, Jerry. He gave it to me free of charge—minus utilities—as a trade-off for my surveillance services. It’s worked out for both of us, too. Ever since I put up the cameras, his place hasn’t been held up,” Paul said. “Of course that’s not the only reason he wanted me close by.”
“I get it. You’re a good influence on Nick,” she said, and saw him nod.
“Jerry and Nick aren’t close, but the gap between them widened even more when Jerry found out that Nick was in a gang. He had no idea how to help his kid.”
“So what made you get involved?”
“Nick was headed in the wrong direction just like I was at one time. If it hadn’t been for Hosteen Silver, my life would have been a real mess. I figured it was time for me to step up and do the same thing for someone else.”
“Pay it forward,” she said with a nod.
“Exactly.” He entered a set of numbers on an electronic keypad lock, opened the door, and invited her in.
As she looked around Paul’s combination living room, office and kitchen, Kendra realized that this wasn’t so much a home as a place Paul lived in while he worked.
A large wooden desk held three computers, a multifunction printer and a monitor with a webcam. Two larger monitors with split screens and speakers hung on the wall behind and above the desk. Beside them, on a second rolltop desk stood a larger printer and a nineteen-inch flat screen TV. Across from that was a comfortable-looking leather recliner.
Beneath two small windows on the south side of the kitchen area was a counter that held a microwave oven and a coffeepot. On the adjacent wall stood a small fridge and narrow stove.
“It’s small,” he said as if he’d read her mind, “but it’s easy to keep and serves my purpose. What’s your apartment like in Denver?” he asked her.
“It’s large, an old office loft, close to the federal building. It took me forever to find it. I needed lots of shelves for my...stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Mostly knickknacks and collectibles I’ve bought over the years. Life with the colonel took us all around the world. Sometimes we’d move as often as twice a year. With his rank, we didn’t have much trouble getting our stuff from post to post, but making each new place feel like home could be tough. Eventually I learned to surround myself with familiar things that had special meaning to me.”
“You’ve referred to him as ‘the colonel’ before. You didn’t call him Dad?”
“He preferred ‘colonel.’ He told Mom that it helped maintain a sense of discipline in the family.”
“So he was strict?”
“Oh, yeah. For my brother and me, our house was like boot camp. You did things his way—no argument. Rules were everything to him. It was even more so after Mom passed away. By then I’d turned seventeen and I was marking off the days until I could leave for college. My brother received an appointment to West Point the year before. The first time he came home for Christmas, he told me being a plebe was easy, compared to home.”
“Tough, huh? Do you ever visit the colonel
“It’s not going to happen,” she said firmly, pretending to be watching traffic.
“What?”
“You’re not going to charm me, or tempt me to forget I’m here on business,” she said.
“You’re wound too tight,” he said, chuckling. “I’m just being myself.”
She didn’t answer. She liked Paul way too much and he knew it. If she didn’t keep her guard up, she’d end up in a world of trouble.
Chapter Six
They arrived at Paul’s second-story apartment a short while later. “Living above a coffee shop has definite advantages,” she said, noting the wonderful aromas that filled the air as they climbed the flight of stairs. “How did you find such an interesting place?”
“The apartment belongs to Nick’s dad, Jerry. He gave it to me free of charge—minus utilities—as a trade-off for my surveillance services. It’s worked out for both of us, too. Ever since I put up the cameras, his place hasn’t been held up,” Paul said. “Of course that’s not the only reason he wanted me close by.”
“I get it. You’re a good influence on Nick,” she said, and saw him nod.
“Jerry and Nick aren’t close, but the gap between them widened even more when Jerry found out that Nick was in a gang. He had no idea how to help his kid.”
“So what made you get involved?”
“Nick was headed in the wrong direction just like I was at one time. If it hadn’t been for Hosteen Silver, my life would have been a real mess. I figured it was time for me to step up and do the same thing for someone else.”
“Pay it forward,” she said with a nod.
“Exactly.” He entered a set of numbers on an electronic keypad lock, opened the door, and invited her in.
As she looked around Paul’s combination living room, office and kitchen, Kendra realized that this wasn’t so much a home as a place Paul lived in while he worked.
A large wooden desk held three computers, a multifunction printer and a monitor with a webcam. Two larger monitors with split screens and speakers hung on the wall behind and above the desk. Beside them, on a second rolltop desk stood a larger printer and a nineteen-inch flat screen TV. Across from that was a comfortable-looking leather recliner.
Beneath two small windows on the south side of the kitchen area was a counter that held a microwave oven and a coffeepot. On the adjacent wall stood a small fridge and narrow stove.
“It’s small,” he said as if he’d read her mind, “but it’s easy to keep and serves my purpose. What’s your apartment like in Denver?” he asked her.
“It’s large, an old office loft, close to the federal building. It took me forever to find it. I needed lots of shelves for my...stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Mostly knickknacks and collectibles I’ve bought over the years. Life with the colonel took us all around the world. Sometimes we’d move as often as twice a year. With his rank, we didn’t have much trouble getting our stuff from post to post, but making each new place feel like home could be tough. Eventually I learned to surround myself with familiar things that had special meaning to me.”
“You’ve referred to him as ‘the colonel’ before. You didn’t call him Dad?”
“He preferred ‘colonel.’ He told Mom that it helped maintain a sense of discipline in the family.”
“So he was strict?”
“Oh, yeah. For my brother and me, our house was like boot camp. You did things his way—no argument. Rules were everything to him. It was even more so after Mom passed away. By then I’d turned seventeen and I was marking off the days until I could leave for college. My brother received an appointment to West Point the year before. The first time he came home for Christmas, he told me being a plebe was easy, compared to home.”
“Tough, huh? Do you ever visit the colonel
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