Read Online Unbound (The Braille Club #2) by J. A. Kerr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. A. Kerr
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home, but he missed his mates. Their company was like an old pair of slippers, the only place he felt comfortable and finally himself. Crawford was left at the office and Ford slipped into the pub and the banter, with a welcome grin from his mates and a punch on the arm.
But those times were getting fewer and fewer. His company had expanded and encompassed many additional services: crisis consultancy, oil spill containment, and advanced cleaning solutions. At 33 he had made serious money and still loved the thrill of the challenge. He’d jump on a plane at all hours. Arriving in dangerous locations often meant putting his own safety on the line, but there was one thing missing in his life. He punched in the number and when connected, asked for Guy Walker.
“Crawford,” began Guy, delight clearly evident in his voice, “or would you prefer Ford?” There was a silence that neither man rushed to fill. Ford had stiffened immediately, his defensives rattled.
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” said Guy smoothly.
“Ahhh,” said Ford as he settled down to listen.
“Danny Shields,” said Guy.
Ford did not react as his friend’s face swam before his eyes. He liked Danny. He was a keeper, but still he did not speak.
“Ford, I’ve heard good things about your work, but what we need here is very different and somewhat challenging.”
“How so?” Ford enquired.
“It’s something you must see for yourself, plus we will insist on the signing of a confidentiality agreement.”
Ford was thinking, processing the words. “I’m a busy man, Mr. Walker. I’m afraid I’ll need more details.”
“I understand. I will send the proposals via email. You can ring me when you’ve absorbed them.”
“Good, I look forward to it. Goodbye, Mr. Walker.” Both men hung up simultaneously, smiling.
Ford had been dating his girlfriend Monique for some time and he’d grown fond of her. He definitely had a type; she was petite, brunette, with pretty eyes and an exquisite face. She told him red hair was hot and sexy, citing Michael Fassbender and Benedict Cumberbatch. He’d laughed, pulling her towards him.
“Flattery will get you into trouble,” he remarked, then silenced her mouth with a kiss. Ford was unusual; he was completely comfortable in his skin. Surviving his ugly duckling stage, he now embraced who he was, glad his earlier days were behind him.
Guy Walker’s call had unsettled him. He’d had offers before—Shell and BP amongst others, but he liked being his own boss. It suited his nature, he liked calling the shots. He looked at his diary. It was busy, but nothing his crew, all handpicked and highly specialised, couldn’t handle. He’d wait and see what arrived in his email. Curious, he scrolled through his contacts until he located Danny. He sent him a text.
Ford: Guy Walker ?
As he waited for Danny’s reply, his thoughts returned to Esme. Shortly after her departure, he’d received an email from her at work. It had brooded in his inbox for two weeks as he tried to ignore it. Just the sight of her name brought memories; the flash of her rare smile, the way she flicked her hair out of her way in annoyance, her face with its smattering of freckles, focused and solemn.
Her eyes were sharp with intelligence; eyes that not only held your gaze, but challenged it. He’d hovered over the mail, fingers itching to open it, but he was still hurting, still angry. After another week he’d given in and they had stayed in touch ever since, tracking each other’s careers over the ensuing years. They were even friends on Facebook. Ford detested social media, but it had its uses. His mobile buzzed, and he looked at the screen.
Danny: Good, ex-copper knows my bro, why?
He quickly sent a reply.
Ford: Wants work done, just checking he’s legit .
The reply was quick.
Danny: Aye.
Chapter 12
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The central
But those times were getting fewer and fewer. His company had expanded and encompassed many additional services: crisis consultancy, oil spill containment, and advanced cleaning solutions. At 33 he had made serious money and still loved the thrill of the challenge. He’d jump on a plane at all hours. Arriving in dangerous locations often meant putting his own safety on the line, but there was one thing missing in his life. He punched in the number and when connected, asked for Guy Walker.
“Crawford,” began Guy, delight clearly evident in his voice, “or would you prefer Ford?” There was a silence that neither man rushed to fill. Ford had stiffened immediately, his defensives rattled.
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” said Guy smoothly.
“Ahhh,” said Ford as he settled down to listen.
“Danny Shields,” said Guy.
Ford did not react as his friend’s face swam before his eyes. He liked Danny. He was a keeper, but still he did not speak.
“Ford, I’ve heard good things about your work, but what we need here is very different and somewhat challenging.”
“How so?” Ford enquired.
“It’s something you must see for yourself, plus we will insist on the signing of a confidentiality agreement.”
Ford was thinking, processing the words. “I’m a busy man, Mr. Walker. I’m afraid I’ll need more details.”
“I understand. I will send the proposals via email. You can ring me when you’ve absorbed them.”
“Good, I look forward to it. Goodbye, Mr. Walker.” Both men hung up simultaneously, smiling.
Ford had been dating his girlfriend Monique for some time and he’d grown fond of her. He definitely had a type; she was petite, brunette, with pretty eyes and an exquisite face. She told him red hair was hot and sexy, citing Michael Fassbender and Benedict Cumberbatch. He’d laughed, pulling her towards him.
“Flattery will get you into trouble,” he remarked, then silenced her mouth with a kiss. Ford was unusual; he was completely comfortable in his skin. Surviving his ugly duckling stage, he now embraced who he was, glad his earlier days were behind him.
Guy Walker’s call had unsettled him. He’d had offers before—Shell and BP amongst others, but he liked being his own boss. It suited his nature, he liked calling the shots. He looked at his diary. It was busy, but nothing his crew, all handpicked and highly specialised, couldn’t handle. He’d wait and see what arrived in his email. Curious, he scrolled through his contacts until he located Danny. He sent him a text.
Ford: Guy Walker ?
As he waited for Danny’s reply, his thoughts returned to Esme. Shortly after her departure, he’d received an email from her at work. It had brooded in his inbox for two weeks as he tried to ignore it. Just the sight of her name brought memories; the flash of her rare smile, the way she flicked her hair out of her way in annoyance, her face with its smattering of freckles, focused and solemn.
Her eyes were sharp with intelligence; eyes that not only held your gaze, but challenged it. He’d hovered over the mail, fingers itching to open it, but he was still hurting, still angry. After another week he’d given in and they had stayed in touch ever since, tracking each other’s careers over the ensuing years. They were even friends on Facebook. Ford detested social media, but it had its uses. His mobile buzzed, and he looked at the screen.
Danny: Good, ex-copper knows my bro, why?
He quickly sent a reply.
Ford: Wants work done, just checking he’s legit .
The reply was quick.
Danny: Aye.
Chapter 12
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The central
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