Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve

“Trenton, what was so urgent that I had to rush to your place the moment my flight from Nevada touched concrete?”

Trenton spun around and nearly slipped from the sweat pooled at his bare feet. He stepped back from the punching bag, taking smooth drags of breath, hands palming his hips.

Coming just inside the fitness room, Dominic leaned a shoulder against the wall, his hands in the front pockets of his slacks. “You look to be in good health, but that bag probably would plead for mercy if it could. How long have you been at it?”

Giving a glance up at the clock on the wall, Trenton saw that he had been working out his thoughts on the bag for damn near two hours. “How was the Nevada team?” he asked around catching his breath. “No hiccups, I hope?”

“Since that’s a question that clearly could’ve waited until we were at the office tomorrow, I figured this nine-one-one is personal, especially at seven o’clock on a Thursday night.”

Grabbing a fresh towel from the rack, Trenton dried his face, hair and bare chest, then tossed it into the laundry basket on his way to the weight bench. “I spent most of the day at Chase Investments. Kennedi and I informed the staff this week that I’ll be acting CEO.”

Dominic snapped out of his reclined pose, blue eyes wide. “No shit? I leave for a few days and you take on a charity case? I told you I heard that company isn’t in good financial shape. Why would you waste time and, inevitably, money on it? You’ll…” He paused. “Wait.” A slow smile curved his lips. “K. Avery Chase Jr. That’s it, isn’t it? That also explains why you’re overworking that organ in your chest.”

Trenton stretched out on his back and got into position. He cut a glare over at his brother as he started his two thirty-pound presses.

“What’s that look for? You know I’m right. Why else would you pour money into a sinking ship?”

Inhaling on the down weight and blowing out on an up push, he worked through his reps, finishing two sets, then rested the barbell back upon the rack and sat up. “I had Carol do more digging. Chase Investments isn’t as bad off as I first thought. The Hong Kong deal I believe I can turn around. I’ve already spoken with two of our investors and both are interested. Kennedi and I have a conference call next Wednesday with everyone involved. In the right hands, I foresee doubling, maybe even tripling the return.”

“What about her bakery? She’s come around to you demolishing it?”

“We agreed that if I help her with her father’s company and pay off the balloon payment on her store, she’ll relocate. Trust me, the giving of my time will be worth it if it means no more legal petitions to delay construction. In one hand, I had Kennedi with that bakery of hers fighting me on building the parking garage, and in the other Alan’s ass over at Lange Industries trying to shut down my casino construction because of some drummed-up allegation that I bought the bid. I was getting it from both ends. This partnership with Kennedi at least resolves half my problems.” Trenton crossed to the fridge for a bottled water and drank several deep swallows. “That said, I believe Kennedi is hiding something. I have no doubt she’s in contact with her father and likely knows he stole those funds.”

“Then why would you want to help her save the man’s company? Sounds like she can’t be trusted. Have you confronted her?”

A sudden chill washed over Trenton’s sweat-covered body as he was reminded of his ex’s betrayal. Then that phone call Kennedi received from some guy that she’d chosen not to answer in front of him came to mind. She’d said she had plans to work at her store tonight. Maybe that had been a lie. Maybe she’s out on a date.

On impulse, he stepped over to the weight bench where he’d left his phone and sent off a text to her:

Have you reviewed any of the info from Richard?

He waited through several heartbeats but received no reply.

“I should hear something from William on Alan Lange next week. Trent?”

“Hm?” Trenton glanced up from his phone. “What was that?”

“Dude, what’s up with you? I said William will likely have info on Lange next week. We’ll know how Lange intends to fund the bid for the Dubai partnership.”

“Right,” Trenton muttered as he typed out: ??

Again, crickets. He started to type out another message using words that would surely get a response but decided against it. He wasn’t her keeper. They weren’t even friends. She could date whomever the hell she wanted. He didn’t give two shits.

Then why did he suddenly feel so damn defeated?

Fuck.

Sticking his phone in the pocket of his sweats, he turned to his brother. “What’s happening with the Dubai partnership?”

Dominic laughed. “I already told you. Dude, you got that chick, Kennedi on the brain. I can tell. I think the real reason you’re playing savior is because you’re into her. Bro, you need to be careful here.” He wore an expression of grave concern. “With the shit Claudia’s putting you through, and finding out she’s pregnant? You don’t even know if it’s yours.”

Trenton cut his brother a hard side-eye to shut him up. He didn’t need to be reminded of his fucked-up situation. “I stand to gain a substantial profit is why I’m helping Kennedi Chase. But I need to find out if she knows her father stole that money. If he did, why not help her pay off her balloon note?”

Dominic shrugged. “Maybe it would draw suspicion.”

“I need answers. Will is helping with that.” He chucked the empty water bottle into the recycle bin on their start toward the door and down the hall to the stairs.

“How so?”

“He has a guy who used to be a forensics expert,” Trenton answered, and Dom looked at him. “I don’t think Mr. Chase’s signature on the Hong Kong and Miami contracts match.”

Pulling up to Chase Confections, Trenton parked in a reserved spot alongside a red Kia Sportage and got out of his car. He scanned the area for a gray Hyundai, the car he’d seen Kennedi get into that Friday night at the party, but it was nowhere in sight.

Across the busy street on Anacostia’s river-view side of the Wharf, the morning locale he’d observed during his last visit had transformed into a bustling evening arena of foot traffic and Uber and Lyft rotations to and from the packed restaurants and bars. Parking came at a premium on the Wharf. All the more reason his garage would be a welcome addition.

After he’d kicked his brother out of his apartment and showered, there still hadn’t been a reply from Kennedi. And it pissed him off—more than pissed him off—that she might have lied to him. He should expect deceit from the opposite sex. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Kennedi would be no different. But it did, and that pissed him off all the more.

He strode to the entrance of the boutique. A glance at his watch—eight fifty-one—just shy of ten minutes before closing time, according to the hours of operation etched on the glass door.

Taking a look within, he recognized the young man sweeping the floor from his previous visit. Wearing earbuds and sporting that same colorful bandanna, his head bobbed as he wiped down the tables. Trenton entered, and as before, the delicious, sweet scents filled his nostrils. His stomach growled in reaction, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

The young man paused in his tidying up, dark eyebrows lifting. He pulled the buds from his ears. “Can I help you?”

“I was looking for Kennedi Chase. I’m Trenton Shaw, her business partner at Chase Investments. I didn’t see her car. I assume she’s not in. Mind if I leave her a note?”

A woman pushed past the swing door behind the counter, jovially smiling, but seemed a bit out of breath. She stopped short.

“Good evening, I’m—” he started.

“Trenton Shaw.” Adjusting red wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, she came forward and shook his hand while maintaining a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Evie Powell, co-owner here. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well.” Trenton was a bit surprised by the warm welcome.

“That’s Carlos, our apprentice.” The young man jogged back over after locking the door and shook his hand.

“I stopped by to talk to Kennedi, but I didn’t see her car.”

“She’s here. I’ll take you back.” Evie led the way.

“That’s a kick-ass Audemars Piguet,” Carlos said as he trailed behind them down a wide, brightly lit corridor.

Trenton brought up his wrist. “Thanks. You know watches?”

“I collect them.” Carlos flashed a glance down at the watch again. “I’m not at that level yet though. My grandfather gave me his vintage World War II Longines Lindbergh after I graduated high school. It’s pretty sweet. That’s how I started getting into collecting. I’m hoping I get his other one after my finals next week.”

Music filtered into the hallway from beyond a set of gray metal double doors up ahead. They entered a large kitchen to find Kennedi and Tabitha, singing on beat with a female hip hop tune—arms up, heads bobbing, hips rolling. The song happened to be the same one Sasha had been blaring at Vincent’s home.

The pair wore white aprons atop pale pink T-shirts, well-fitted jeans and white canvas sneakers.

Evie took a step, prepared to get their attention, but Trenton stopped her with a light hand upon her shoulder. He wanted to take a moment to watch Kennedi in a way he hadn’t seen before—completely uninhibited. Her chestnut hair was gathered into a thick ponytail, long, loose coils hanging in her face. Everything about her appearance in that moment was sexy as hell.

Just then, she spun and nearly took a tumble forward at the sight of him standing there. Tabitha followed and gasped.

“Kennedi, Mr. Shaw asked to see you,” Evie said.

Taking in deep swallows of air, she stepped over to an iPhone dock situated upon the side metal table and cut the music. “Trenton, what are you doing here?”

“Evie, you know we don’t bring anyone back here,” Tabitha chided. She removed her apron and hung it alongside a row of others on the wall beside the door.

Evie delivered a dismissing wave. “It’s Mr. Shaw.”

“I know who he is.”

“Please call me Trenton.”

Evie smiled at him before turning back to Tabitha. “It’s cool.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you ladies.” Trenton looked at Kennedi. “I sent you a text. There are a few items I wanted to discuss with you. I was in the area…thought I’d stop by.” He’d made it his mission to catch her in a lie, but it would seem she’d been right where she’d said she’d be tonight. Quite a surprise to say the least.

“It can’t wait until tomorrow? I have to finish up an order.” She moved to the center metal table, to what appeared to be the makings of a large tree with half of the top covered in tiny leaves. Beside it lay a tray with more of the leafy greens covered with clear plastic wrap. Next to that, another tray held colorful miniature winged figurines.

“Yes, you looked extremely busy a minute ago.” Trenton grinned, and her features hardened. Now that particular expression he’d become quite familiar with. “It won’t take long.”

“Didn’t you hear her say she has work to do?” Tabitha glowered.

“Tab, it’s okay.” Kennedi turned to Carlos. “You can head home.”

“Okay. I’ve boxed up the big stuff in your office and everything in the stockroom. All that’s left is the kitchen here. Let me know when you’re ready for me to take care of it.” Carlos retreated from the room.

With that, Trenton felt the sharp sting of Tabitha’s glare, open in her discontent. He settled his attention back on Kennedi. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“You guys go on home. I’ll finish up,” she said to her partners.

“We’ll stay.” With eyes pinned on Trenton, Tabitha crossed her arms at her chest. “For safety.”

Kennedi sighed. “Tab, I’ll be fine. You’ve been here all day. And Evie, you as well. Go.”

Tabitha didn’t budge, her severe gaze viper-locked on Trenton. Evie nudged her not too subtly. “Fine,” she grumbled, and the two strode out.

Trenton closed the door and came forward. “I don’t think she likes me.” He looked around the neatly arranged kitchen. Everything in its place.

“You make that easy,” Kennedi muttered on her way to the sink. She washed her hands, then moved to the table with the half-finished tree.

“I want to apologize again for my behavior at the office today.”

“Do you make it a habit to blow up at women for no apparent reason, Mr. Shaw?” Carefully, she removed the plastic wrap and took a small leaf from the tray. Using a narrow bristle paintbrush, she dipped it into a bowl of clear liquid and swiped it on the leaf before attaching it to a tree branch.

“No, and it won’t happen again.” Silence. “What can I do to show I’m being sincere? Name it.” More silence. He looked around. The place was about as orderly as they came. Spotting a small basket of what appeared to be freshly washed towels, he began folding them.

Kennedi looked up. “What are you doing?”

“Working off my penance.” He pretended to wipe his brow. “Hard work over here.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She tried to take the towel from him, but he held it high above his head, dodging, circling, and switching it from hand to hand.

“Nope, you can’t have it.” He laughed at seeing her jump up like a WNBA player. Tossing the towel, he caught her at the waist and started tickling her. She shrieked and squirmed, her laughter cutting through her quick breaths. “Do you accept my apology? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, yes!” she screeched and he let her go. Her breathing choppy, chuckling, she wiped her eyes with the tail of the apron and moved back to the center table. “You’re still ridiculous, you know that?”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

“What did you want to discuss?” Concentration now centered on her project, she meticulously added the leaves to the branches.

Remarkable. “What is that supposed to be?”

She turned her head to him, wearing an easy grin, and playfully elbowed his arm. “Now you’re trying to insult my skill, is that it? Come on, you can’t see what it is? What does it look like?”

He returned a smile. Hers was so beautiful—he didn’t see it often enough. Her work here, this place, it seemed to bring out a different side of her. A radiant glimmer kindled in her rich brown eyes. “It’s a tree and people with wings.” Her unexpected laughter made his chest constrict in warm waves. “What?” He pointed at the objects. “That’s a tree and those are people.”

“It’s a fairy tree house, hence the entry door and fairy wings. It’s for a client’s five-year-old’s birthday party.” She picked up one of the figurines from the tray and carefully dabbed it with the clear liquid before placing it upon the thatch of grass near a pond.

Watching her in this light, Trenton was in complete awe. “You’re an amazing woman,” he said quietly.

Her eyes lifted to his and held for a long, silent moment, as if waiting, expecting he’d take it back. He had no intention of doing that.

“Wash your hands.” She gave a nod toward the sink.

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Go wash your hands. I’m going to show you how to make a flower.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think—”

“Go.” Her stern features cut a slight grin.

He did as ordered and then returned. “Now what?” She dusted the clean metal surface with powdered sugar before taking from a container two pint-sized bright pink balls covered in clear plastic wrap. “What’s that?”

“Gum paste. It’s what we’ll use to make the flowers.”

“If you say so.” He was sure to fuck it up. “You’ve been forewarned.”

She laughed as she set one ball in the center of the powdered sugar and handed him a rolling pin while taking up another for herself. “Roll it out to about a sixteenth of an inch.”

Watching her flatten hers, he went to work. “Okay, let’s do this.” A few good rolls of the pin, looking between hers and his, and he nodded, satisfied. “Done. What’s next?”

She handed over a sturdy plastic tool with a rounded ball edge at one end and a flattened angled side at the other.

“What do I do with this?”

“You’ll use the veining tool to carve out a shape of a flower. It’s easy. Watch.” Before he could blink, she’d quickly whipped her gum paste into a delicate daisy. “See. Now you try it.”

He set the tool down. “Are you kidding me?”

“Come on, Mr. Boss Man, don’t be scared.” Smiling, she pinched his forearm. “You handle tasks far more challenging than my little ol’ flowers.”

He grinned, liking her easy playfulness, enjoying this side of her. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” Studying her daisy—of course, which turned out perfectly—he brought the back of his hand to the warmth of his forehead. She might as well have told him to perform an invasive surgical procedure.

Starting in, the tool slipped, cutting the shape in half. Fuck it. “There’s no way.”

“Here.” She slid in front of him, and all it would take was a slight lean in for their bodies to touch as she placed her delicate warm hand atop his and skillfully guided the tool, shaping out an almost-perfect flower. “There.” She looked back at him. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Something puzzling and powerful tightened and squeezed the air in his chest. And he was hard. So damn hard beneath his jeans.

She rotated, and they stood facing one another, his eyes on hers in the quiet as he fingered the loose coils behind her ear, on down the warm pulse of her neck. “What can’t you do, Miss Chase?”

“You have powdered sugar on your forehead.” Her voice was a soft caress.

She reached up and brushed an index finger across his brow, then drew back, but he caught her hand. His gaze holding hers, he pressed a kiss in the center of her palm before taking that finger between his lips. Her eyes flared with a look of surprise, then hooded in a way he hadn’t seen from her before. Slowly, her other hand moved up his chest, along his neck and into the back of his hair, fingers anchoring as she guided him to her partially open mouth. The tip of her tongue lightly traced his lower lip, the gesture so intimately hot his breath hitched.

Palming her hips, he pressed the hardness of him against the soft contours of her, allowing her to feel the full rawness of his need. A light gasp feathered against his lips, and she pulled back, her gaze raking over his face before she brought him back down to the crush of her mouth. Fingers locked onto the back of his head, holding firm as her tongue prodded and snaked within, kissing him with a deep, wet, open-mouthed hunger.

With their lips never breaking contact, she started working the two buttons open on his polo shirt while walking him backward until his ass met the barstool stationed at the metal table against the wall.

He needed to fill his palms with her soft flesh, but that damn apron impeded all contact. He tugged at the tie string and she made quick work of wrenching it off.

He licked down the smooth angle of her throat, then back up, reclaiming her mouth, and slipped his hand underneath her T-shirt, tugged down her bra and captured a breast in his palm, rolling the already pebbled nipple between his fingers. Shameless moans escaped him at how good she felt.

Things got wild fast. Their hands were everywhere, flames fully engulfing them. In a rush, he reversed their positions, unbuttoned and yanked down the zipper on her jeans and shoved them along with her panties past her hips. She quickly toed out of her sneakers and assisted in tugging off her clothes the rest of the way. He stuffed the small scrap of pale pink satin into the pocket of his jeans, dropped to his knees and buried his face between her smooth thighs. Noting the ivy tattoo curving along her pelvic bone, he followed it on down with his tongue, swiping across the lips of her fully shaven pussy and over her engorged clit.

“Yes,” she hissed low.

As he feasted on her delectable flesh, her gasps and whimpers stoked his lust. It made his cock stone hard, throbbing painfully behind his zipper. She was just so deliciously sweet, he couldn’t stop eating her while sliding two fingers in and out of her slippery wet sex.

Spreading her labia with his fingers, he flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth over her sensitive pearl, laved and circled, keeping pace with her panting breaths. Pressing his tongue hard against her clit, then soft, delivering an intermittent pressure over and over, he ran it slowly up and down in rhythm with his swift-pumping fingers. Wanting to go deeper, he grabbed hold of her perfectly sculpted ass, tugged her forward to the edge of the barstool and burrowed his tongue to the far reaches of her clenching channel. Gripping tight to the edge of the cool metal, head thrown back, she balanced upon her perch, legs spread wide as he greedily fed upon her.

“Trent,” she panted in quick bursts, smacking the table, fists balled tight, “right there! Don’t stop!”

He worked her with ferocious speed and knew precisely the moment her orgasm struck. Her back arched sharply and she cried out his name on a long, throaty hiss. A hand seized a stranglehold of his hair and pressed down hard on his head, sealing his mouth snug against her pussy. Her thighs quivering, heavy, panting breaths filled the air. Every taste, every sound, everything she did kept him raging hot for her.

Not waiting for her to come down from her orgasmic high, he got up from his knees and quickly worked loose his jeans, then took out his wallet from his front pocket and retrieved a condom. Before he could slide it down his severe erection, with her eyes never leaving his, she pulled his cock free from his boxer briefs. She gave his length several good, long strokes, slender fingers squeezing just enough to drive him wild for her, and then rolled the thin latex down his shaft. Well damn. He loved that she wasn’t abashed in expressing what she wanted.

Catching her thighs, he hoisted her up onto the edge of the table. As his mouth came down on hers, he pressed the head of his cock against her opening and drove deep, burrowing to the hilt.

Their lips parted for a breathless moment, and they both delivered awe-like stares at the other before he surged forward with long, aggressive pumps of his hips. A frenzied smacking sound of flesh on flesh rang out as he nipped and suckled her neck. She hitched sharply at the tug of his teeth on her skin, then settled into soft, purring moans, clinging tight to his shoulders. Lifting her T-shirt, he wrenched the delicate lace of her bra aside and took in a mouthful of one perfectly peaked brown morsel, licking the nipple before biting lightly. Her body stiffened, then trembled as she moaned out his name on a soft sigh.

He wanted to hold out, but she was flicking his earlobe with her tongue, snaking it down his neck, along his chin to his mouth. She relentlessly nipped and licked his lower lip until the sharp little prickle of pain set off a spark that had him tensing and grinding into her. Gripping her ass tight, he savored the feel of her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his cock as it pulsed, emptying into the condom, far inside her.

On a shuddering breath he buried his face at the side of her neck and inhaled the unique fragrance of her, a delicate floral that now blended with her sultry female heat.

This woman… Damn.

“You smell good,” she whispered past a heavy breath, her chest rapidly rising and falling just about on pace with his.

He reared back, his gaze meeting hers, and in that startling moment as he felt himself slipping free from her body, he didn’t want it to be over. “I was thinking the same about you.” His stomach growled, fizzling out the intense inferno.

She came to her feet. “The bathroom is through the door, down on the right.”

He left the room. When he returned, she’d dressed and stood near the stove, cutting off thick slices of bread from a large loaf. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing you something to eat. I sensed you were hungry.” She gave a pretty wink at him over her shoulder, the expression so stunningly beautiful, his pulse punched hard beneath his rib cage.

“I had a busy day. I guess I forgot to eat.” Trenton brought over the barstool, the very one used in their sex calisthenics.

He sat and watched as she quickly shredded a good portion of Gruyere cheese, added it to the butter and cream heating in the skillet, tossed in some ground herbs and whisked. Next, she took from the fridge a hefty portion of prosciutto and began putting all the fixings together, then slid the sandwiches onto a baking sheet and into the oven. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman cooked for him. Claudia would’ve needed a road map to find the kitchen, let alone the stove.

“It needs about five minutes.” A quick wash of her hands, then she went back to working on the tree. “You said there was something you wanted to discuss. What is it?”

He’d expected they’d now talk about what just happened between them, but she acted as though having sex in the kitchen of her store had been business as usual. The woman confused the hell out of him.

When he didn’t reply, she glanced up from her task, eyes questioning.

“It can wait until tomorrow. Besides, I wouldn’t want to disrupt your concentration…again.”

“You sure?” She went to the oven, took out the sandwiches, plated them and set it before him. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water will do. I’ll get it.” Helping himself, he filled a glass straight from the tap and returned. Taking a bite of the sandwich, his shameless moan couldn’t be contained. “I see she’s beautiful and a remarkable chef. This is about the best ham sandwich I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s a croque monsieur.” He grinned, and she laughed. “Okay, it’s a fancy ham and cheese sandwich. My first day in culinary school during my stay in France, we had to show we could keep cheese from scorching, and whatever the outcome, good or bad, we had to eat it. I tried the sandwich recipe.”

“A success, I presume.”

“Yep.” She smiled. Another beautiful smile.

“You studied in France?” He bit off another large bite.

“It was part of a summer program that led to a six-week apprenticeship at a bakery café.”

Trenton all but inhaled the first sandwich, unable to help it, then took a generous bite of the second and shook his head. “Damn, this is good.”

“Everything tastes great when you’re hungry.” She glanced up, a soft smile bringing out the afterglow in her cheeks. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“I didn’t see your car when I pulled up. How are you getting home?”

“I rode with Tabitha. I’ll take a Lyft.”

“I’ll hang around and take you home.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Kennedi.”

“Trent.” She flashed a look full of defiance, lips thin, then went about her work. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

He sighed. She was so damn stubborn. So was he. “I’ll send a car. Now, are we going to talk about what just happened between us?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

He found that a bit odd. Most women after sex would’ve wanted to yammer on about what it meant, where they’d go from here, and when should she expect to get a key to his place. It was becoming clear Kennedi Chase wasn’t most women.

He finished his last bite and brought his dishes to the sink.

“It won’t happen again,” she said without ever breaking a look away from her task.

He spun around. Well shit. That hadn’t been what he’d meant by discussing, and he realized it was he who wanted to know what it meant and where things stood. To that end, they’d fucked. It was over. End of story. He refused to let his lust for this woman hold him captive.

Her cell phone stationed on the iPhone dock rang. He noted the same man’s name as before. Jacob. Without answering, she took the phone and placed it facedown upon the counter at her workstation. There were only a few reasons why a woman wouldn’t take a call from a man while with another man. Recalling his cheating ex and how she’d fucked him over, looking at Kennedi a sudden band of irrational anger drummed in his head, one he had trouble dialing back. He started for the door.

Her head came up. “You’re leaving?”

He pivoted and her exquisite brown eyes seemed to draw him from across the room. Just that easily, he hungered to be deep inside her again. It pissed him off. “I expect you in the office tomorrow bright and early…and prepared.” Irritation revealed itself in his tone.

Her stare narrowed at the command, conveying an overt screw you before returning to her tree leaves. “Good night, Mr. Shaw. Oh, and you can hang on to my panties.”

Clenching his jaw, conceding to her the last word, he exited the store.

In his car, he pulled from his pocket the panties and rubbed the satiny material with the pads of his fingers. The floral scent of her clung to the fabric, and damn if it didn’t make his dick hard.

Annoyed, he brought up on his car’s Bluetooth William Drexel, the owner of Drexel Security, who handled any and all security matters for Shaw Enterprise. It was closing in on eleven o’clock. He prepped to leave a message, but the line connected.

“Trenton.”

“Evening, Will. I know it’s late. I won’t keep you.”

“No problem. What can I do for you? I should hear back from my guy on those signatures soon, and also have the info on Lange Industries as well.”

“Good to know, but that’s not why I’m calling. I need you to run surveillance on an individual. Her name’s Kennedi Chase. Kennedi is spelled with an I. She’s owner of Chase Confections.”

“You want the usual—a trace, financial and the like?”

“I have the financial data. I’m more interested in her comings and goings.”

“Got it. I’ll put my guy Reese on the Lange project and take care of this personally for you.”

“Appreciate it.” He disconnected.