Contingency Plan
Table of Contents
Contingency Plan
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Blackbridge Security
Synopsis:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Social Media Links
OTHER BOOKS FROM MARIE JAMES
Contingency Plan
A Blackbridge Security Novel
Marie James
Copyright
Contingency Plan: A Blackbridge Security Novel
Copyright © 2020 Marie James
Editing by Marie James Betas & Ms. K Edits
EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover Credit: Najla with Qamber Designs and Media
Acknowledgments
It takes a village, right?
I couldn’t do this without so many people around willing to help!
My amazing BETAs, you gals are my everything! Brenda, Laura, MaRanda, Michelle, Shannon, and Sarah, I couldn’t do this without your help!
Christine, you are AMAZING! You keep me on my toes when I know more often than not you want to throw something at my head! Thanks for sticking with me!
To my ARC team, you ladies lift me up and give me the drive to keep writing! Thank you for your kind words and being the spot checkers for my final draft!
If I missed anyone, blame it on the pandemic and my crazy writing schedule… my brain is fried!
Until next time! Keep it safe, sane, and consensual!
~Marie James
Blackbridge Security
Series Information
Hostile Territory
Shot in the Dark
Contingency Plan
Truth Be Told
Calculated Risk
Heroic Measures
Sleight of Hand
Synopsis:
As a former FBI agent, Flynn Coleman was made for his work with Blackbridge Security.
He’s highly trained, has a skill set meant for analysis and investigation, and meant to do important things.
Yet, he’s chasing a twenty-year-old starlet’s daughter around New York City because the spoiled brat never learned how to behave.
Remington Blair doesn’t need a babysitter, but her parents insist.
Keeping Flynn Coleman on his toes will be the most fun she’s had in a while.
Besides, just hearing him call her name with that accent is enough to keep her running.
Chapter 1
Flynn
“You made it.”
The relief in the man’s eyes in front of me due to my arrival should be my first clue about how this job is going to go, but I extend my hand to shake the one he’s offering.
“Flynn Coleman with Blackbridge.”
“Phillip Warren, A1 Security.”
Unmoving, I stand in the driveway and look up at the ostentatious house. He turns to look as well, taking in the stately home.
“It’s big,” he mumbles.
“Too big,” I return. “How many people live here?”
“Three residents, but a handful of staff are constantly in and out.”
“Hmm.” It’s the best response I can give right now.
There’s nothing quaint or humble about the house in front of us. It has been built to stand out, built so people will notice, a talking piece for anyone who drives by, but I guess that’s stardom for you.
“How’s the security system?”
“Basic,” Phillip answers. “Mr. and Mrs. Blair aren’t here much, so it wasn’t one of their priorities when they built. The majority of their valuables are under lock and key in a different location.”
The warning in his voice is clear, and I hate even the implication that he feels the need to warn me away from pilfering the clients’ possessions. Maybe it was a problem with staff in the past, but that isn’t how Blackbridge works. If there was even a hint of theft from one of our team members, they’d be out on their ass before they could blink.
“And they leave the daughter here alone with a basic security system.”
He shrugs. “Remington could probably circumvent any system that was put in place.”
“How long have you worked for the Blairs?”
He shifts from one foot to the other, making it clear he’s ready to pass the baton and get the hell out of here. It makes me wonder just how difficult this job is going to be if this man is hellbent on leaving as quickly as possible.
“Two years. I would’ve been gone six months ago, but I promised to stay on until a replacement was found.”
“And that took six months?” My feet begin to move me closer to the front door when he starts walking in that direction.
A series of questions invade my head, but the one that sticks out is what in the hell have I done wrong to end up here? I’m Deacon Black’s right-hand man, the second-in-command so to speak at Blackbridge, yet I’ve somehow landed the responsibility of babysitting a twenty-year-old woman who has been tagged a brat of epic proportions.
Phillip opens the door, allowing me to walk in first, but I’m more concerned with his response than the marble entryway and the double staircase leading up to the second floor.
“Six months?” I prompt when he doesn’t supply an answer.
“She ah…” He grips the back of his neck awkwardly, and it’s easy to tell he doesn’t want to give much away in fear that I’ll turn around and walk out.
I’m no stranger to hard work. Normally, I’m resilient and have the patience of a saint, but his behavior has me wondering if Deacon sent me here as some form of punishment.
“She’s a handful, a spitfire who hates rules.”
“She’s grown,” I argue. “I read the file, Phillip. Just give it to me straight. I know I’m not here as a security detail.”
“She’s turned slipping her detail into a sport, and she’s gotten very good at it.”
My eyes wander around the room, taking in the extravagant chandelier and the detailed molding around the ceiling. It’s not my taste at all, but I’m not here to get comfortable in this home.
“She likes to be chased,” I mutter, turning in a circle to try to identify the se
curity cameras. I spot a few in the corners, but with what he’s told me, I can’t be certain the things even work.
“She likes to be a pain in the ass,” he clarifies with another sigh. His hand goes back to his neck, and the pull looks painful. “She’ll try to embarrass you. She’ll disrespect you, and if that doesn’t work, she’ll throw herself at you.”
My eyes dart to him, and he looks away.
“Did you—”
“No!” He takes a step back, hands held up. “Fuck no, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t try. I’ve known the Blairs for years. I’d never cross a line like that.”
“But others have,” I deduce.
“And they were fired on the spot.” He raises an eyebrow at me, making sure I get the warning in his tone.
I shake my head, barely avoiding an eye roll. “I’m a professional. Blackbridge doesn’t get romantically or sexually involved with clients.”
That’s not the whole truth, but Deacon and Anna had a history, which makes their situation completely different. Whitney, technically, wasn’t a client when Wren set his sights on her, even though BBS did have to get involved to help her out when she needed it. Both of those situations were totally different.
“That’s a good thing.” The look on his face makes it apparent he doesn’t believe I have the competence to remain professional.
“I can handle a snot-nosed brat,” I assure him.
I may not want to be here. I may be questioning how long I’m going to be stuck babysitting this girl, but getting involved with her would never happen.
“Let me show you around.” He starts walking again, knowing I’ll follow. “The kitchen and staff quarters are that direction. There’s at least one housekeeper onsite at all times.”
“I’ll be staying over there?”
He shakes his head. “You’ll be upstairs. I’ve already packed all my things and had staff clean the room.”
“I’m upstairs?”
“Being closer to Remington makes it easier to know when she’s getting ready to pull a stunt.”
“She sounds like a toddler,” I mutter as I follow him through the house.
He doesn’t respond. “There are two living rooms. This one doesn’t get used much unless the Blairs are entertaining.”
The oversized room looks magazine ready, like something you’d see in a model home, untouched and cold.
“The second living space—”
A noise to the right as we enter the second living area cuts off his words.
“Remington.” He sighs just as the girl in question walks into the room.
Scratch that. Not a girl. She’s a grown-ass woman.
I keep my face schooled despite the tan on her golden skin. Despite the water droplets that cling to every inch of toned flesh. Despite the fact that she’s wearing the tiniest pair of bikini bottoms I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Despite the fact that her perfect tits are bare, a mesmerizing bounce to them as she walks closer to us.
Praying she doesn’t notice my throat working on a swallow, I maintain eye contact with her to the best of my ability.
She’s fire, absolute destruction, and if I were a smart man, I’d turn around and walk out. I’ve been around a lot of women. When I worked for the FBI, I was put in many situations where I was tasked with romancing women to get information the Bureau needed.
I wish I could say I was a rock. I wish I could say I maintained my sanity. I wish I could say that I didn’t compromise my integrity because of a woman before.
I can’t.
My termination from the Bureau is proof of that, but the complications from that situation have nothing on this girl.
She’s trouble. I can see it in her eyes. I can tell by the sway to her hips, and the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip like she can read me like an open book even though I haven’t outwardly reacted to her in the slightest.
“Remington,” Phillip says with a sigh, and it makes me wonder if his throat gets sore from doing it so often. “We’ve talked about this. Go put some clothes on.”
“This is my home, Phillip. I’m going to be comfortable in my own home.”
Her voice is silk with an edge of huskiness I feel deep in my gut. As she speaks to him, her eyes never leave mine. There’s no damn way she’s only twenty years old.
“Flynn Coleman,” I say as she draws nearer, holding out my hand. I can remain professional. The four words bounce around in my head, becoming a mantra. The second I’m alone, I’m calling Deacon to tell him this isn’t going to work. I don’t think immersion is going to dampen the ridiculous visceral reaction I’m having to her.
She doesn’t take my hand, and from what Phillip told me and the limited information I got in the dossier on this job, it shouldn’t surprise me.
My hand grazes the slick side of her body as she steps against me. Like a fool, I stand my ground, refusing to give an inch. Her arms go around my waist, her wet tits against my upper abdomen as she wraps herself around me in a hug.
By the grace of God, I’m able to keep my hands away from her glistening skin.
My eyes find Phillip’s, and I hope that my frown matches his.
“This is going to be so much fun,” she whispers in my ear, and I blame the cold chills racing down my arms on the dampness she left on my clothes when she turns and sashays away.
Unable to look away, my eyes follow her out of the room, still staying locked on the closed door she disappeared through long after it closes behind her.
“Looks like she’s going to skip the embarrassment and disrespect and jump straight to the seduction.”
Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. “She’s twenty?”
I want to kick myself for the level of unprofessionalism I’m showing, especially so soon after declaring that BBS doesn’t get involved with clients.
It takes seconds for my reaction to her to piss me off and strengthen my resolve. This is a game to her. Phillip made that clear only moments ago, and I’m not going to lose another job because I fall into a trap laid by a woman hoping to watch me break.
“Come on,” Phillip urges, walking toward the door Remington entered the room from. “The indoor pool is this way.”
Even with the luxury of the rest of the house, there’s no way to mask the smell of chlorine as we enter the room.
“Cameras in here?” I observe, noticing one in the corner.
“Four,” he answers, pointing out the others.
“And she always swims topless?”
His head shakes as if he’s already disappointed in me, but watching her half-naked isn’t my reason for asking.
“Always,” he says reluctantly.
“Do her parents have access to the system while they’re away?”
“Yes. They each have access through an app on their phone. You’ll get a daily login email, notifying you who logged in, when, and what cameras they accessed.”
The second he explains, I already know what I’m going to find and it makes my skin crawl in a much different way than it did when Remington pressed her wet body against mine.
“Mr. Blair logs in more than his wife. Mrs. Blair doesn’t seem as concerned about security as he does.”
“Let me guess,” I begin before I can stop myself, “he’s especially concerned about the pool area?”
He turns to face me, eyes narrowing, but not in a disappointed way. The look on his face tells me he never considered the implications of Remington’s father watching the pool area for any other reason than security purposes until now.
“That’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?”
His eyes dart to the camera over my shoulder.
“Do they have sound as well?”
He shakes his head. “Just video.”
He looks like he’s going to be sick, and I can’t help but think he’s a little disappointed in himself for sticking around an extra six months to help the man out.
I’m already working through plans in my head to either get Remi
ngton to wear more clothes or get the damn cameras out of the room, knowing I’m going to get pushback either way I go.
“He’s her stepdad,” Phillip interjects, like it makes any damn difference.
“He’s a movie star, typecast as a man who demands to only work on wholesome films, all including children,” I clarify.
Jesus, I’m going to have to have a long damn conversation with Wren when I get the chance.
What has started as a job dealing with a bratty girl is turning into something much more sinister.
“He’s also concerned about his reputation,” Phillip says. “Hence the need for you. Remington seems hellbent on doing anything to get attention from her parents, and ruining their reputation in the movie industry seems to be her latest focus. She’s landed in the tabloids more times than I can count. She’s so volatile that the paparazzi often wait outside the gate in the afternoon and evenings just in case she does something stupid.”
I didn’t notice anyone out there when I drove in, but it’s still a little early.
I don’t open my mouth to express any more of my concerns. The issues going on here are no longer his problem.
“Let me show you the security room.”
I follow behind him, relief washing over me as we step out of the humid room and back into the main area of the house.
“The outside caretaker lives on the grounds. He comes in handy sometimes when she gets an idea to take off. She seems to like him, and he’s been able to convince her to go back inside more than once,” he says as we make our way across the house.
The security room, complete with a wall of monitors displaying the various camera angles from inside and outside the residence, is down a hallway past the dining room.
“Ten cameras on the inside, a dozen on the outside,” Phillip explains as he shifts through the system.
Ten cameras inside and four of those on the pool area. Only an idiot wouldn’t find that suspicious.
“And these?” I ask, holding up a thick stack of letters, several of them looking like something you’d see in a police procedural on television.
Some are on regular paper, letters from various magazines making words to convey obsession, many with threats. Most are addressed to Remington, but as I flip through them, I notice several to her parents as well.