Proof (Targes Executive Protection Book 1)

The irony of it all hadn’t been lost on me in the aftermath of what hadn’t been a break from reality, but rather a reintroduction to it.

I’d spent nearly my entire life trying to get as far away from the Ashby name as I could only to learn that it had been taken from me years ago. I just didn’t know why. I also couldn’t make sense of my grandmother’s betrayal.

Everything JJ had pointed out after observing Patricia Ashby’s behavior made complete sense to me now. She had been lying to me, hiding her condition, or lack thereof. Every time my mind tried to come up with some viable excuse as to why she might have replaced me with my half-brother, it always went back to the same place.

My time in prison.

There’d been no mental illness that had kept her away. Even if she’d been under my father’s financial and physical control, she would have found a way to get a message to me. She knew enough people in power all over the world that all she would have had to do was make one phone call to a prominent person, and I would never have been transferred to the federal supermax prison in Colorado.

JJ’s fingers closed around mine as the SUV we were in made its way deeper into the city. I tightened my own grip to show him I was still okay.

As okay as I was going to be, at least for a while. A long while.

Despite everything JJ had seen and heard when we’d visited my grandmother, we still had no facts, no proof of anything. His observations, while all true, didn’t mean my grandmother was doing anything illegal. For all I knew, she’d wanted to find an easy way to get out of needing to explain why she’d left me locked up without even one word.

The last two days had been a mental nightmare and my breakdowns at the houseboat and in Sully’s office had been the first of many, though they’d been more of spats with JJ as I’d tried to make excuses for my grandmother. Anything to not have to face the reality that she’d lied to me and that the way she’d treated me as a child, the way she was treating Charles, had nothing to do with love.

JJ had remained patient with me throughout all of my outbursts. We hadn’t returned to the houseboat or Sully and JJ’s house because we’d been too concerned about both places being compromised. That had left us with only the Targes headquarters to call home. Between the feeling of being confined and the knowledge that several of Sully’s most trusted men were within hearing distance of us every minute of every day, I’d been teetering on the edge of control. JJ had always brought me back and when I’d calmed down long enough to talk things through, he’d patiently listened.

The one thing he hadn’t done was let me cover for my grandmother when my mind tried to do exactly that. At best, he’d reminded me that we didn’t have enough information to know either way what role, if any, my grandmother or any of the rest of my family members had played in JJ’s shooting and my imprisonment two years earlier.

On the one hand, it felt like we were back at having nothing, but we had more than the day I’d walked out of that police station only to find Sully waiting for me. Between Sully’s men and ourselves, we’d pored through the information Sully had collected a dozen times over, but nothing new had stood out. JJ had told me and Sully about the mystery police report he’d been handed at some point before he’d been shot but he couldn’t say when he’d seen the file or even be completely certain it had been my father’s name on it. The file had been taken by his superior with a half-assed explanation that the file had been meant to go to a different officer. It was all JJ could remember and it frustrated him to no end.

Sully had asked a friend to hack the LAPD databases to see what kind of complaints had been lodged against my father, but there’d been fewer than expected and they’d all been minor offenses. He’d never been officially charged with any of crimes.

It’d been Michael, Sully’s assistant, who’d surprised us with data that none of us had thought to look for. JJ, Sully, and I had automatically assumed any complaints in the system would be against my father. We hadn’t thought to look into any that had been filed by my father. Michael’s hunch, along with his yet to be explained hacking abilities, had pulled up a single piece of information that hadn’t given us much, but it’d been the kick in the ass, or rather, my ass, that we needed to act sooner rather than later.

My goal had been to gather proof that my father had been behind JJ’s shooting from the beginning, but the information Michael had found had been a harsh reminder of where jumping to conclusions had gotten us.

Nowhere.

They’d been my conclusions and ironically, my argument had been the same one I’d challenged JJ with when we’d been at the cabin. I’d asked him that as a cop, would he have relied on information from others to make a decision about a suspect or would he have found evidence to confirm that the person even counted as a suspect?

I’d already judged my father and found him guilty before even talking to him. Just like with my grandmother, JJ had pointed out that as horrendous as what my father had done to me growing up was, he hadn’t done anything illegal.

The bottom line was that if I wanted answers, I needed to go to the source—to the one place, or rather person, I’d been hoping I could somehow condemn without needing a face-to-face confrontation. Thus the reason the SUV JJ and I were sitting in the back seat of was hurtling toward downtown LA on a Saturday afternoon. A couple of Sully’s guys had followed my father from his penthouse to his office a few hours earlier, so that part was easy.

The next part wouldn’t be.

In so many ways.

Starting with JJ.

With Sully driving and Boone in the front seat, JJ and I had enough privacy that I could have broached the topic long before the vehicle neatly slid into an open spot less than a block from Ashby Tower. Coward that I was, I waited until Sully had thrown the SUV into park before I tightened my hand on JJ’s.

“Sweetheart—”

“Cass?” JJ asked as he looked out the window. Sully and Boone had practically thrown themselves out of the SUV before it had even stopped moving, so he and I were completely alone.

I didn’t respond because I knew I was already fucked just by the way he said my name.

“Did you know these SUVs are bulletproof?” JJ asked as he glanced through his window up at the glimmering skyscraper. “The frame and the windows,” he continued as if we were chatting about some interesting piece of information while on a Hollywood bus tour.

“Yes,” I responded when he squeezed my hand hard.

“You know what they aren’t proof against?” JJ continued. I could feel his eyes on me, and I know how stormy each of them would look, despite their differing colors. I stared at the headrest in front of me because I needed to stay strong.

“They’re not JJ proof.”

I steeled my resolve at his comment. “JJ, there’s no fucking way I’m letting⁠—”

That was as far as I got before he released my hand and simply opened the door and climbed out of the vehicle. “JJ!” I shouted as I jumped out of the SUV and nearly got run over by a lime green Lamborghini. I ignored the colorful names the driver called me and stomped to the sidewalk. I directed my next words at Sully.

“You couldn’t have gotten one of these”—I pointed at the SUV—“with the child safety locks on it?” I snapped even as I stepped in front of JJ, shielding him from view.

“Yeah, because that’s what I need when four of my guys are rolling up on a hostage scene,” Sully quipped. “For the two guys in the back with their AK47s all ready to go only to have the two guys in the front with their AK47s forget to open the fucking back doors!”

JJ was already on the move before I could flip Sully the bird.

“JJ—” I began as I scanned our surroundings. Boone was behind us while Sully was in front, so JJ was covered from all three sides with the building acting as the fourth side. It didn’t matter; I was on edge anyway.

“Sweetheart,” JJ said, mimicking the tone I’d used on him. “Do you really want to talk about the fact that a certain someone’s little brother will never get his fantasy of having a certain someone’s best friend fuck a certain someone’s little brother in the back seat of a certain jet black 1969 Mustang⁠—”

“For Christ’s sake,” Sully muttered.

A couple of women who’d been walking behind us shot JJ a smile as they moved past us so they could catch the crosswalk before it changed.

Despite his words, JJ closed his hand around mine. “Let’s get inside the building, okay?” he said in all seriousness. His thumb rubbed over my skin in an effort to calm me. He was right, we needed to get into the building for added protection.

The second we were in the lobby, JJ led me to a small alcove that was surrounded on all three sides by stone. The fact that I could clearly see the lobby instead of being tucked away in the small space with no way out had me wanting to kiss him then and there. “What did you do, scope this place out?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, didn’t you?” JJ responded. He winked at me and said, “I looked at the same blueprints you did, babe. I just looked for a couple extra things that I figured would help speed this whole thing along.” He glanced around us before continuing, “I know you’re scared to death for me. Not for yourself, for me.”

I nodded. “JJ⁠—”

He kissed me hard. “My turn to talk, sweetheart,” he whispered against my lips.

I sighed and kept silent even though all I wanted to do was lock JJ in a room somewhere with no way in except a single door that had every single man and woman Sully employed standing guard in front of it.

“Now, let’s look at it a little differently,” he began. “Let’s say I used my own little private brand of magic on you that would have left you covered in your own cum while still trying to catch your breath in the back seat of the SUV.”

I opened my mouth to speak but JJ put his fingers over my lips. “Okay, so you’ve just shot a considerable load down my throat, but you being the stud you are and me being the guy with no gag reflex, I make sure you’re covered in your own jizz before I give you a taste of it,” he continued. My dick was already hardening as the scene played out in my head.

“So, you’re pretty much passed out in the back seat, and when I cuff you to the armrest, your first thought is what round two is going to be all about. Meanwhile, I’m out of the car and halfway to this nice little lobby here and all you can do is sit and watch over your shoulder as I walk into what could very well be a trap.”

“I’d break the fucking armrest,” I growled.

JJ nodded. “Sure, you could do that. Or you’d stop and think how it feels to watch the love of your life walk into a place that you may never see him walk out of. You think about how your life ceases the second his does. You forget that you’re a sharp, talented, focused man who knows how to deal with high-pressure situations because all you can see is every possible scenario of how you’re going to lose the love of your life play out. Don’t forget, the love of your life asked or insisted you stay behind for your own safety.”

“It’s not the same—’ I started to say.

“The only part that isn’t the same is the fact that you wouldn’t think to blow me beforehand so that I’d at least have a few seconds of pleasure before I realized what a lying dick you are before I GOT OUT OF THE CAR ANYWAY and followed you because you are the fucking goddamn love of my life and we agreed there is no you or me anymore. It’s us. We. So you’re going to shut the fuck up, do what you do best which is protect me, I’m going to do what I do best which is protect you, and then we’re going to figure out what the fuck is going on. Then and only then will you get to fulfill your fantasy which is to fuck me in your 1969 Must⁠—”

I silenced JJ with a kiss. “You win,” I conceded. As hard as it was to admit, he was right. He would have suffered just as much torture as me if I’d been left behind so I’d be “safe.”

JJ nodded in satisfaction and began to leave the alcove. I grabbed his arm and dragged him back to me. “What the hell do you mean, a few seconds of pleasure? When I get my mouth on your dick, it’ll⁠—”

“You guys ready?” Sully asked. The asshole was standing five feet away, his steely eyes directed at me. “Or do you want to keep eye-fucking my baby brother while I take care of the rest of this shit?”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“If you need someone to do the eye-fucking…” I heard Boone say. He was a few steps off to the side, his back to us so he could keep an eye on the lobby.

JJ stepped in front of me before I could go after the good-looking man. I already wasn’t the man’s biggest fan because not only had he partnered with JJ, he’d also played a role in keeping Sully off our backs while JJ had been helping me deal with my shit in Sully’s office.

Boone took a few steps back but didn’t turn around. “I checked with the guards, boss,” the man said as he continued to survey our surroundings.

“Is he here?” Sully asked.

“Upstairs, in his office,” Boone responded.

Hearing confirmation that the man who’d destroyed the lives of everyone around him and who was likely behind the deaths of three innocent people as well as the shooting that had nearly stolen JJ from me forever was in the building with only an elevator ride separating me from him had me seeing red. I’d promised myself and JJ that I wouldn’t make assumptions about my father’s criminal behavior, but deep down, I knew it was a promise I couldn’t keep.

Not with the knowledge that the man standing next to me was only there by the grace of God and a lot of talented medical staff.

“Did you show him ID and explain about the weapons?” Sully asked.

“Didn’t have to,” Boone responded. Before I could ask what the hell he was talking about, Boone quoted, “‘Mr. Ashby and any armed or unarmed members of his protection detail are free to pass. The senior Mr. Ashby has been waiting for them.’”

“What?” JJ asked, his verbal surprise echoing my own shock, though mine was instantly rooted in suspicion.

“It’s a trap,” I growled. I had no idea how my father had known I was coming, but I wasn’t completely surprised, either.

“Only one way to find out,” Sully said. He strode forward. I looked over my shoulder at JJ, who gave me a nod and a small smile that he’d probably meant as encouragement. It only added another layer of dread to the shit pile of it sitting in my gut.

Not caring how it looked, I wrapped my fingers around JJ’s hand and kept him tucked up against me as I followed Sully. I still didn’t believe a word of what the guards had said to Boone, but sure enough, as soon as Sully reached the metal detector, one of the guards waved him around it instead of through it. He didn’t ask for ID. Not for any of us. We still had our weapons on us by the time we reached the elevator. There was no one waiting inside the elevator that only went to the top floor of the building, and despite drawing our weapons as it raced upward, there was no immediate need for them when the door opened because no one was waiting for us.

“What the hell?” Sully said softly.

I seconded the question but kept it to myself. Despite the lack of a security team waiting for us, we took our time clearing every conference room, cubicle, and office on the floor. The only room with the door closed and the blinds drawn was the one with my father’s name spelled out in shiny metal lettering next to the door. It was lit up from behind to give it more flair.

“Best of everything,” I muttered beneath my breath.

Sully had already made the decision that he’d go in first, followed by Boone. Once they cleared the room, then and only then were JJ and I supposed to enter. I’d held my tongue about the whole thing, but the second Sully reached out to turn the doorknob, I kicked open the door and, gun drawn, strode into the huge space. I heard both Sully and JJ curse behind me, but I didn’t care. My eyes were focused on the man sitting calmly at the desk, drink in hand.

“Ah, there he is,” my father said with a smile. He lifted the glass as if he were giving a toast. “The prodigal son returns.”

“Clear,” I heard Boone and Sully both call. I already knew from the blueprints that the office had a large bathroom in addition to an attached conference room.

JJ was behind me, but not directly. I wanted to step in front of him, but I knew he’d just move the opposite direction. It was like he’d said in the lobby. I needed to do what I did best, protecting him. He needed to do the same for me. Exposing him to any kind of threat went against every fiber of my being, but he was right. It was not just him or me anymore, it was us. And that applied to any and every part of our lives.

I focused on my father. Surprisingly, he looked older than all the recent pictures I’d seen of him in the paper and on the news. He was still a handsome man, but there was something missing. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Fellas, fellas, is all this really necessary?” my father asked. He held out his hands, spilling some of his drink in the process. “Take a look around, get yourselves a drink… let’s catch up… son.”

“Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your brain right now,” I snarled.

My father rolled his eyes like I’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Why all the hostility, Cassius?” His eyes shifted to JJ. “Your boy barely looks the worse for wear.” The man had the audacity to squint before adding, “A shame there wasn’t a better plastic surgeon on staff when they wheeled you in… could have had you shiny and new⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed. I already had my finger on the trigger when JJ stepped into the line of fire. He kept his gun pointed at my father and never took his eyes off him, but the close call left me rattled. I wanted to shake JJ for the danger he’d put himself into when I realized he wasn’t the one putting me, his brother, and Boone in danger.

I was doing that.

All by myself.

My fury was like a living thing beneath my skin and under any other circumstances, I would have needed to move around or take my aggression out on something or someone. God, how had I ever thought I’d be able to do this? I’d been so certain that I could maintain some level of professionalism, but I couldn’t. I was the fucker’s bitter son first, the disciplined Marine second.

“How did you know we were coming?” JJ asked.

My father put out his hands again. “A father just knows these things.”

“You fucking piece of shit—” I began. I still had the gun aimed at my father, but I was keeping my hand off the trigger in case JJ pulled the same trick.

“Awww, son, how about you start calling me Pops?” my father suggested. “Or Dad, maybe Daddy… no, that one won’t work ’cause this one”—he pointed at JJ—“probably calls you that.” My father acted lost in thought for so long that I almost thought he’d passed out. “I know, how about SaDa?”

“He’s hammered,” Sully muttered. “We’re not gonna get shit out of him until he sobers up.”

“Nope, yep, maybe,” my father responded. His eyes were on me as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation wash over me.

“SaDa? What the fuck does that even mean?” Sully asked. It was a rhetorical question but the second he said the strange word again, my father’s eyes shifted to the right just a little. He did it again a second later. Something about his eyes was off. He was acting drunk or high or a little bit of both, but his eyes…

“Sully’s right, Cass,” JJ said. I watched in astonishment as he lowered his gun and then turned his back on my father.

He fucking turned his back… and he remained between me and my father, giving the asshole an opportunity to shoot him in the back. We hadn’t checked him or the desk for weapons. What if⁠—

“This is a waste of time,” JJ said to me as he took a few steps forward. His eyes pinned mine. I recognized the look for what it was. He knew something. JJ had caught something I had yet to process. I gave him the tiniest of nods to indicate I understood not to pull the trigger the second he moved out of the way. I watched in surprise as he went to the bar that was stacked with an endless array of liquor bottles.

It was the same direction my father had shifted his eyes in.

JJ stuck his gun in the waistband of his jeans and studied the various bottles. “Not one fucking cheap bottle of whiskey,” he said in irritation. “Nothing but the best for dear old dad, huh, Cass? Probably been drinking this shit from the second you were born.” He glanced over his shoulder at my father. “And by the way, it’s the other way around, he calls me Daddy,” he commented as he jerked his head in my direction. “What are you drinking?” he finally asked as he began shifting the bottles of alcohol around.

“My best buddy, Johnnie Walker,” my father announced, his words slurring heavily. He lifted his glass again, as if toasting someone. “That whiskey cost more than your house, sonny.”

As JJ pretended to examine the bottle, I began running the strange conversation back and forth in my head.

“It’s not whiskey, is it, big brother?” JJ asked.

“Scotch,” Sully said gruffly.

“Come here, babe,” JJ said as he held out the bottle. I kept my gun trained on my father although I had no intention of pulling the trigger. My father’s eyes held a certain desperation to them while his arms continued to bob around as if disconnected from his body.

When I reached JJ’s side, he pretended to show me the bottle before saying, “Guy’s probably got a million bucks’ worth of shit to get his drink on.” JJ began moving bottles on each shelf. He rattled the names off some of the bottles in disgust. “A million bucks right here when he could grab himself a great fucking glass of scotch like Pops did for five bucks at O’Shauney’s.”

“Never said the fucker knew how to spend all that cash, just said he did,” I responded as I watched JJ return the bottle to a different spot than it had originally been in. He made a show of moving the bottles around like he was trying to make the one in his hand fit. That was when I saw it.

A camera.

A very small, very well-hidden camera.

The sight of it had everything coming together in my head. Certain words began to stand out.

SaDa.

Buddy.

Big brother.

O’Shauney’s.

“Gimme a refill,” my father said as he waved his glass around.

“I’m done with this shit,” I sniped as I put my gun away. “Let the fucking cops have him,” I added as I began to walk past his desk.

“Now listen here!” my father yelled as he jumped drunkenly to his feet. He jabbed his finger on his desk. “You will respect me!”

“Go fuck yourself,” I responded even as I dropped my eyes to the desk where my father’s finger was. Scrawled on a small scrap of paper sticking out from a stack of documents was a set of words that had chills running down my spine.

She has Charlie. Across street. Shooter.