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Chapter1
Parker
Iput my feet up on my old metal desk and slammed my laptop shut. Billing, tracking expenses, and responding to unhinged emails from clients were far from my favorite tasks.
But they were my reality now.
I leaned back in the old chair and took a big sip of my iced coffee. Things weren’t bad. Despite my dad’s best efforts, I had clients, and my business was growing. But it turned out that working for myself wasn’t as satisfying as I had imagined.
I tipped back another inch or so, the chair squeaking loudly. One of the armrests was constructed entirely out of duct tape, and the cushion was so worn it offered no padding, but I wasn’t the prissy type. It was a chair. It did its job.
Until it didn’t. Because in one instant, I was sipping my coffee and channeling all the positivity I possessed, and in the next, I was plummeting to the ground. I hit the linoleum floor with a thud, and the cold rush of iced coffee hit my neck and chest.
Fuck. My. Life.
I picked my head up and surveyed my surroundings. The chair was in pieces, several looking sharp enough to do real damage. I was wearing my coffee, and I had no doubt that by morning, I would be covered in bruises. My hip throbbed, and there was already a twinge in my shoulder. Motherfucking old-ass chair. Why hadn’t I driven my ass to Staples and bought a new one?
Comfortable chairs are a human right, not an outrageous luxury. When would I stop punishing myself?
I stood slowly, cringing as the coffee seeped through my bra. It was one of my favorites, pearl pink lace, and it would likely never be the same.
Before I could fully recover, there was a loud knock on the door. And I hadn’t even steadied myself on my feet before it opened.
I was brushing the ice cubes off my pants when I saw him.
Fire coursed through my veins, and my spine snapped straight. What the fuck was he doing here?
I crossed my arms over my chest, fully aware that my silk shell was probably transparent.
“Can I help you?” My voice shook slightly, and I cursed myself for not being more self-possessed.
“Good to see you, Sergeant Harding.”
“It’s just Parker now,” I gritted, mustering as much dignity as I could, given the circumstances.
He nodded. The fucker knew I wasn’t with the force anymore. Why else would he be standing here? Also, whywashe standing here?
I hadn’t responded to his emails or his calls. Still had no clue what he wanted, but I sure as hell wasn’t doing business with the man responsible for the death of my career.
“What do you want, Gagnon?”
He smirked. That fucker smirked at me. “I’m here to hire you.”
I laughed. Fancy corporate assholes like Pascal Gagnon did not hire lowly PIs like me, no matter how prestigious my background.
“Leave. I’ve got real work to do.”
He took a step closer, taking in my old desk and the broken chair.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you from all your vital work. If the location of your office is anything to go by, you’re clearly wildly successful. Doesn’t get more professional than the back room of a tattoo shop.” He scanned my pathetic space for emphasis.
Miraculously, I resisted the urge to pick up my stapler and throw it at his head. With my luck, it would pull a boomerang move and wind up injuring me instead.
“This is an adjacent gathering space,” I said, lifting my chin. “Not a back room. I rent this office and use it for my business. As you could see by the sign on the door.” I waved him toward the door and plastered a fake smile to my face. “Take a look on your way out.”
“You didn’t return my calls.”
“I’m busy.”
