In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

“Miss?” Anita prompted the woman again. “Is there something I can help you with? Do you have an appointment?”


“No,” the woman said in a soft, quivering voice. “I mean yes.” She took a deep breath and visibly let her shoulders sag as though she were gathering the courage to give her reason for being here. Beau could readily picture her closing her eyes in that moment of desperation.

“I don’t have an appointment I meant,” she said quietly. “But yes, you can help me. God, I hope you can. I need to speak with Caleb or Beau Devereaux, preferably Caleb if he’s available. It’s . . . important,” she added, more desperation creeping into her voice.

Beau’s eyebrows immediately rose. He was certain he’d never met this woman and the way she’d called them out told him she at least knew of them, because it wasn’t widely publicized that either Beau or Caleb was actively involved in the actual running of Devereaux Security Services.

Dane was the front man. The face of DSS. Anytime interviews were granted, any police involved, et cetera, Dane handled it while Beau and Caleb stayed in the background. Though ever since marrying Ramie, his brother had turned more responsibility for the operation of DSS to Beau and their younger brother Quinn.

Quinn handled all the financial shit as well as the background checks, not only for potential operatives, but also on the people who wanted to hire DSS. Things Beau didn’t have the patience for. Beau conferred with Dane on which clients they took on and which were referred elsewhere. Because many of the so-called clients were actually people who wanted to get to Ramie—and her powers. And over Caleb’s dead body would that ever happen.

Beau pressed a button next to the intercom to send a signal only visible to Anita or anyone behind her desk. There were only two colors the light flashed. Red or green. Red meant for Anita to tell the prospective client that no one was available and to gently herd them away. Green meant to show the person back to one of the offices. In this case, Beau’s.

Anita never missed a beat, her gaze not betraying the fact that the light had indicated her next move.

“I’m sorry to say that Caleb is unavailable.”

Before she could finish, the woman’s hand fluttered to her mouth and then clenched into a tight ball against her lips. Beau could practically feel the panic that radiated from her in waves.

“Beau is in, however, and will see you immediately,” Anita continued quickly. She too had picked up on the woman’s reaction and now she hastened to calm the woman.

The woman’s entire body sagged. Beau feared her legs would give out. He frowned because she might not be able to make the walk to his office. She was shaking like a leaf.

He was up and on his feet in a split second and quickly opened his office door. He strode into the lobby, hoping his presence would soothe rather than freak the woman out.

She turned, obviously startled to see him there so close to her. It was then that he saw what she’d obviously tried hard to conceal, and would have if the light hadn’t hit her face just right. There was a bruise on the side of her chin and evidence of a crack in the corner of her mouth. It would appear that someone had struck her.

There could be a million other reasons why the woman wore a bruise, but one, he’d seen the worst life had to offer and the terrible things people did to other people so his first instinct was to always think the worst. And two, if the bruise was innocent in nature—an accident of sorts—then why would she go to such extremes to hide it?

She took a tentative step back and he didn’t move. He simply stood there, allowing her perusal without interruption. It was apparent she was sizing him up. Perhaps deciding if she could trust him.

“You wanted to see me?” Beau asked in a neutral tone.

Her fingers twisted together in a ball at her stomach. She sucked her bottom lip inward and then winced as though she’d forgotten the injury to her lip. She started to lift a hand to it, but then as if realizing that by doing so she’d only draw unwanted attention to the bruise, she let her hand fall back to her side.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I need your help.”

Beau glanced in Anita’s direction and she gave him a quick dip of her head, knowing what he wanted. She would hold all calls and take care of anything that cropped up while he was with the woman so nothing disturbed them.

Beau gestured for the woman to proceed toward his office but she hesitated. Slowly, he put his hand on her forearm. Nothing alarming or sudden and he kept his touch infinitely gentle.

“Come,” he said, nudging her forward.

Her shoulders squared and she looked resolutely ahead as if shaking off her earlier trepidation. At his door, she took the initiative and walked inside, leaving him to follow. He shut the door behind them and then turned to face his mystery woman who’d asked for him by name.

Her gaze was on the two-way mirror, a frown on her lips.