CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Asleek black SUV stopped in front of the Amyfinehouse hotel, and the driver got out. He deftly moved around the front of the vehicle and opened the back door for Jo.

“Ma’am?” was all he said as he waited.

His expression was as guarded as the dark sunglasses that covered his eyes, but he wasn’t missing anything. Jo got in, and he hurried back around the vehicle and slid behind the wheel, then pulled into traffic.

“We’ll be at the mansion shortly,” he said, his eyes staying forward.

“Sounds good,” Jo replied.

The driver didn’t talk after that, and he kept a steady speed on the highway. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning, with not a cloud in an azure sky. Four days since Jo had talked to Detective Holton, and things had been moving along. Jo tapped her fingers on her knees, thinking and readying herself for what would come next.

They reached the Highland Park neighborhood, and the SUV meandered along the quiet streets to the Babineaux mansion. The property was an impressive two-story building, with cream-colored brick, balconies, and a curved driveway leading up to it. Decorative shutters and arched windows added to the sense of sophistication. The driver pulled in front of the mansion and hopped out. His dark slacks and coat were tailored to accommodate weapons, Jo could tell, and his actions were methodical. This was a man who knew how to protect himself and others.

He opened the back door, and Jo got out. A muscular man with short, blond hair stood on a wide portico, and he strode down the steps as Jo approached.

“Jo Gunning,” he said. He didn’t offer to shake her hand.

“Kline?” She didn’t have any other name.

He nodded. “Come inside.”

The driver got back in the SUV, and the vehicle eased away as Jo followed Kline into the mansion. The sun’s rays shone through the large windows, bathing a large foyer and curved staircase in bright light. She heard only their footsteps as they crossed a marble floor. Kline led her down a hallway to the right and into a large office. They walked across the plush carpet, and she took a seat at a leather couch. Kline stood near windows that looked to the front of the mansion, his back to her. A long silence stretched between them, one she thought was an attempt to make her uncomfortable. Then Kline turned around and contemplated her.

“You have an impressive background,” he said.

Jo met his gaze and waited. Of course he’d researched her. He would’ve completed a thorough background check, and like others who had done the same thing, he would’ve only been able to see parts of her past. No matter how much he dug, he wouldn’t get classified information. What he had found out seemed to have been enough to get her this far. Now she needed to see what happened next.

She’d done her research, too. JD Babineaux needed a driver for his wife. Jo had learned what he wanted in a driver, and she knew she was a perfect fit. She had the military background, the training, the know-how to be able to protect Lydia Babineaux. She also knew that Lydia had trouble keeping drivers, that there was another factor at play. Lydia needed to trust her drivers, and she hadn’t been able to. If Jo got the opportunity, she thought she could build that trust. And then she’d have the opportunity to learn more about her husband. But Jo had to get that far.

“Where did you serve?” Kline asked.

“Afghanistan.” She kept her answers short—less chance to make mistakes.

“What was that like?”

She told him some about that time, keeping to the facts that he would’ve gleaned from a background search. Keeping it short. When she finished, he moved to a wingback chair across from her, but he didn’t sit down. She glanced around, taking in the décor. This wasn’t his office, definitely not his style. This was only a space to meet.

“You’ve been out of the service for eighteen months,” he said.

She shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Why’d you leave?”

The truth was she’d left because of that last mission, where Dack had gotten hurt. She hadn’t wanted any more secret operations or dangerous situations. Jo didn’t want to see more innocent people getting hurt or killed. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell Kline any of that.

“With my skill set, there’s better money on the outside.”

Money spoke to people, especially people like Kline. She’d encountered his type before—someone who’d served, but who had probably become disillusioned and thought he saw better opportunities elsewhere. She knew some details about him too at this point. He’d had his trouble in the Corp. Nothing that was proven, just some things that had probably been covered up. He had few scruples, the kind of man who did what he did because it would make him much wealthier than a military career ever would have.

At the same time, Kline didn’t appear to spend his money. He liked the power and control, wanted to do things his way, not how some superior officer told him to do it. There was a lot about him that she hadn’t been able to find, no matter how hard she looked. And that could only make him more dangerous.

He rested his hands on the back of the chair and asked more about her military service and what she’d been doing since she’d left. She lied and told him that she’d been a private contractor, working around the country. She kept her answers vague, concise enough to keep him interested and satisfied, but not revealing anything classified or that would throw suspicion on her. When he finished, he surveyed her.

“You understand you won’t be just a driver, but a bodyguard as well? You may need to coordinate transportation logistics, assess potential threats, and gather intelligence.”

She nodded. She’d been trained in tactical driving techniques, and she’d driven in high-risk areas of the world—outmaneuvering terrorists and other threats. Jo was also skilled in many forms of martial arts, and she could handle herself well in close-quarter combat. With those skills, and her wits, she’d survived in some very dangerous situations. Protecting Lydia Babineaux would not be a problem.

“I’m fine with that,” Jo said.

She knew about the position, and the expectations. She’d made contact with Kline to inquire about an interview. It hadn’t been easy, and she’d had to jump through some hoops, but she’d been able to fool him enough to get to a phone call. And after that inquiry, she’d made it here. Now, all she had to do was keep up the ruse.

“The position is two weeks on, then four days off. For the most part, you’ll know Lydia’s schedule ahead of time. When she’s not out and about, you’ll be here. There may be other tasks for you as well.”

“Other tasks?”

“Possibly driving for Mr. Babineaux, or I myself might need you.”

She allowed herself a casual shrug “That’s fine.”

“You just got into town?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have a place to stay?”

They’d gone over all this when she’d talked to him on the phone. Jo had told him she’d been in Arizona, and that she’d worked in Mexico and California. Enough truth, and nothing he’d be able to verify.

Kline nodded thoughtfully. “We have an apartment close to the mansion. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s furnished. That way, you’re close if Lydia needs something at odd hours or unexpectedly.”

“No problem,” she said. “I don’t need much.”

“There may be holiday hours.”

“I don’t have family around.”

He would’ve known about Will and Avery, but since Dack had been the one to get them into hiding, Kline wouldn’t know where they were. She’d covered her tracks well, and even with careful digging, he wouldn’t have discovered much. As long as he never figured out that she was at the bank, she’d be good.

Kline went over her background again, and she stayed consistent in her answers. Then he contemplated her for a long time, the silence a widening gulf between them. She waited him out, comfortable. Jo knew exactly how to play his game. He continued to rest his hands on the back of the chair, and then he shifted suddenly, taking a step toward the door.

“Lydia would like to talk to you. She’ll have the final say.”

Jo nodded. “I look forward to meeting her.”

“If you’ll follow me,” Kline said.

As they left the office, she tamped down the excitement that pulsed through her nerves. There was still more to do.