Page 29 of Soul of Discretion

CHAPTER NINE

Simon dressed alone in his hotel room. He wasn’t going into the office today, letting Decker and his team run down any new information and see what the hacker, Jackie came up with. It looked like she was getting somewhere and Decker had promised to let Simon know if anything came up.

Despite the fact he and Nick had hardly left each other’s sides the past few days since Nick had become Simon’s official bodyguard, Nick still worried something was going to happen.

“Be careful,” he’d warned as he left that morning for his own room, his blue eyes sombre. The man cut a striking figure in his uniform and Simon had been tempted to drag him back to bed. “These guys aren’t pussies, Si, and they only know tough tactics and violence as a way of solving problems. Watch yourself. I don’t think it’s over.”

Simon confessed he had been a little unsettled since the two brutes had forced their way into the office. Considering the security Breakforce had, the circumstance was unnerving. However, he’d assured Nick he would be careful, secretly warmed at the use of the pet name, something he would have snarled at had it been anyone else. But the sergeant….

He sighed as he pulled on his comfortable polo shirt. The quiet Mountie was growing to be rather more than a quick fuck as he slowly wheedled his way into Simon’s life.

Somehow, Nick fit. And wasn’t that an unexpected turn of events. Earl Stoneham, master of the quick fuck by hook-up app, appeared to be a little more invested in Nick than he should be.

True, the sex was off the charts, but more than that, Nick was funny, with a dry sense of humour that tickled Simon’s own, and most of all, Nick was a decent person. A strong, solid, principled man with a great arse and a warmth that filled Simon’s core. Nick was intelligent, shrewd, and there was no mistaking the chemistry between them.

As Simon shrugged into his suit jacket, the phone at the side of the bed rang, and he picked it up.

“Bridgeworth here.”

The squawking voice in the background was familiar. He leaned into the receiver to hear better. “Mr Bridgeworth, sir, we have a man down here who insists he is your personal valet and should be given access to you immediately. He’s quite insistent he be granted admittance.”

The squawking grew in volume and Simon chuckled as the flustered receptionist continued. “Sergeant Cooper advised us in no uncertain terms that no one was to gain entry unless he’d specifically left a name with us. This man’s name is not on the list and he refuses to provide any identification.” The voice was apologetic but panicked.

Simon grinned widely. What the hell is Peter doing here?

He held back the laughter as he replied. “Is the man’s name Peter Sinclair? Red hair, green eyes, spitting temper, looks like a dandy?” As he said the word, he wondered whether Canadians would know the word. “I mean, he looks as if he should be on a catwalk somewhere strutting his stuff?”

The indignant squawking grew louder.

“Yes, yes,” the voice replied in relief. “That’s exactly it. So you do know this man then?”

“I do indeed,” Simon confirmed. “Please send him up. Oh, and put his name on the list please. God forbid he not be added.” He placed the phone back on the receiver and walked over to the mini bar. He took out two bottles of Pepsi and opened them, leaving one on the table.

When the knock came, he called out, “Just a minute.”

When he unlocked the door, he was presented with a finger in his face as Peter stormed past him into the room.

“Christ almighty, I have never been so mortified in all my life. I was kept downstairs like a common criminal while they vetted me. I ask you, Simon, they vetted me like a …a…” he sputtered as he ran out of steam. “Well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, I can tell you.”

“Drink?” Simon enquired as he handed the cola to Peter.

Peter took it and drank it down thirstily. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked waspishly.

Simon tried to keep a straight face. “I was letting you vent first, it’s always worked in the past.”

Peter glared at him. “And I do not strut. The fact I like good suits and wear them well is what makes you bloody jealous.”

They both stared at each other, smiles forming on both of their faces.

“What are you doing here?” Simon took a sip of his drink and slumped down into the easy chair. He’d be late for his meeting, but it was wonderful to see a bit of his family here. “Coll kick you out so you thought you’d come across the pond?”

Peter sat down on the couch and harrumphed. “I’ll have you know Coll would cry huge tears if I ever decided to go. Mark my words. That woman adores me.” His tone was warm with marital fondness. A twinge of envy threaded through Simon. He was beginning to think he was missing something by not having a similar relationship with someone.

“So what brings you here? You’ve come at rather a bad time and I have no desire for you to get embroiled in the fuck-up that’s my life right now.”

With one notable exception.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Why, what’s going on? Have you managed to find anything about Jack other than the fact he’s dead? How’s Margaret doing?”