Lethal: an Off-Book Novel

Lethal

I of Off Book (Derrick Olin, the lost years)
Stellen Qxz

3rd Man Publications (2010)

Rating: *****
Tags: action, sex, thriller, bodyguard, stalking

An Off-Book Novel (Derrick Olin, the lost years). In 2009, Birming-
ham’s toughest tough guy went on hiatus with no intention of return-
ing to print. This changed, of course, in 2012 when he arrived for a
fresh adventure in the novel Rogue. But what was he doing during
those intervening years, what happened to the woman in his life that
he was settling down with when last we saw him? Questions, ques-
tions, mysteries, and more questions. At least until now. There were
two books written about Derrick’s life during that time, revealing an-
swers to those questions and many more, but also deepening the
mystery in some places. Written but never published or seen by any-
one but the author. Well that’s about to change!

The first of those exploits is called Lethal, and it goes something like
this…

Birmingham's best bodyguard is settling down, but not slowing
down. His personal life has gone domestic, but on the professional
side, he's still the same hard bastard as before. First there's the
stalker harassing a big time actor from Hollywood who just won't
take the hint and find a new hobby. Then there's the international
group of killers from Derrick's past with the same problem. They
have a score to settle and will not stop until they get what they want,
Birmingham's Best Bodyguard dead and buried!

LETHAL

A Derrick Olin Novel

Stellen Qxz

Copyright © 2010 by Stellen Qxz
3rd Man Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be re-
produced in any form or by any means without the
prior written consent of the Publisher. This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination, or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual per-
sons, living or dead, or institutions or events, is en-
tirely coincidental. (And you just try to prove other-
wise!)

This is an authorized free edition from www.obooko.com

ChanWell Series
Principal Target Cloak & Stagger Extreme Prejudice
ChanWell
Hired Guns

Birmingham’s Best Bodyguard Series
Compulsive
Criminal
Inactive?
Vicious
Deadline
Extraction
Purity
Reciprocity
Blackball
Retrograde
Fearless
Rogue
The Undercover Groomsman Glock Smoke: A Derrick
Olin Anthology
Traffic(k)
Faithful
Dangerous Liaison Mercenary
Witness
The Asset
Lethal[a]

Critical Action[b]

CIA Series[c]
PUSHBACK
The Blown Whistle

Danny Monk Series[d]
A.B.I. Monk

Hawk Series
Blood Debts

About the author: Since the age of 13 Stellen has written
hundreds of short stories, novelettes, novellas, and novels.
He is an avid reader of fiction and a lover of movies from
the 1970s. When not writing, he works as a private secu‐
rity consultant.

https://payhip.com/StellenQxz

For Lowkie, Lady J, Madam Fae, & Charlie.

LETHAL

Chapter 1

Portland, Oregon

I was doing something I hadn’t done since the fifth grade. And back
then it was nothing quite like this.

Dancing!
Can you imagine Derrick Olin doing such a thing?
Not if you’ve known me for any length of time beyond five min-
utes.
However, today is a very special day, and the person I’m dancing
with is a very special young lady. Someone I’ve known since she was
five days old.
Erin Stevens—now Erin Devonshire—had just gotten married to
her fiancé of the last three years, and it was an event that many had
not believed would ever come. Least of all her mom. But it had, and
all seemed pleased. Especially my perfect and beautiful twenty-two
year old goddaughter.
We were in Portland where Erin and her fiancé—husband—had
been living for the past two years, having moved out here from
Birmingham to get into the wildlife conservation/revitalization
movement that was taking place in this region. Erin and her fiancé—
husband—Zach were very big on the outdoors and really loved ani-
mals too. I knew this was the case with Erin because from a very
early age she had always loved going to the zoo in Birmingham to
see the animals.

I had been in the Air Force when she was born and most of the
early part of her life. However, whenever I was back home on leave
she would beg me to take her to the zoo, and I would. Sometimes
with one of her parents, but usually just the two of us. And she al-
ways had a great time, while I pretended to.

I’ve got nothing against animals, would probably prefer their com-
pany to a lot of humans I know, but if I don’t have to, I would prefer
not to spend time with them either. Least of all while they are locked
behind protective glass and bars in the zoo.

At some point in her life, Erin had come to feel this way as well,
and this soon sparked her interest in wildlife conservation and
preservation. It also became the spark for her poetry because by the
age of fourteen she had become quite an accomplished poet. As of a
couple of years ago she had published two complete books of her
work and they had been very well received in some circles.

Even though I’m not the biggest fan of poetry, I have to admit,
Erin is pretty darn good; and not simply because she’s my god-
daughter. But that probably doesn’t hurt either. The lovely little
blond girl I used to hold on my knee and laugh with, who once
threw up on my newly purchased charcoal gray pinstripe suit, who
had the honor of being the last baby whose diaper I changed… she
had now grown up. A married woman. Probably soon to be a
mother.

Jesus, would that make me a grand-godfather?
Have to check on that.
The wedding had been less than traditional, as you would expect if
you knew Erin in the slightest. But everyone in attendance seemed
to really enjoy it, as did the happy couple.

Now we were at the reception in the grand ballroom at the Mar-
riott-Portland downtown. There was a live band, plenty of food and
drink, and a lot of very enthusiastic people everywhere having a re-
ally good time; some perhaps too much of one. However, at the mo-
ment only one person concerned me.

Most of the music played was contemporary, which meant I knew
nothing about it, and the beat was just beyond my limited ability.
However, because she wanted to have at least one dance with me,
Erin had requested something a bit more sedate, slower in tempo.
And now she was in my arms, her head against my chest, as we
slowly circled the dance floor, everyone else dancing off to the sides,
most of them watching us.

I kissed the top of her head, her hair straight and red this week,
and Erin glanced up and smiled dreamily, her breath alive with
champagne.

“I’m gonna have to thank Traci again,” she said.
“For what?” I said.
“For giving you dance lessons,” she said, giggling. “You really are
very good, Derrick.”
I smiled.
“Who says I wasn’t already very good?”
Erin cocked her head sideways and stuck out her tongue for a mo-
ment.
“I’ve known you all my life, luv,” she told me matter-of-factly.
“And the one thing I do know about you for absolute certain—other
than the fact that you love me—is that you couldn’t dance for shit
before this.”
We both started laughing and I leaned down to kiss her on the
forehead.

We continued to dance until the song ended and then her hus-
band came over and asked to cut in. Erin kissed me on the cheek
and then went off to dance with him.

I glanced around and spotted three women standing by them-
selves near one of the open bars. All three were gorgeous, one was in
her late teens and the other two were more mature, but beautiful
nonetheless. And to be honest, I love the more mature.

Traci Brenner beamed at me as I walked over, putting her arms
around my neck and squeezing me tightly.

“You two looked really good out there, Mister. I told you you’d be
great. And Erin is so beautiful. She and Zach make such a great cou-
ple.”

I kissed her on the lips and turned to look at the dance floor, slip-
ping an arm around her slender waist.

“They really do look great together,” I admitted.
Next to Traci, Leigh Danton stood with an arm around her
youngest daughter, Justine Duvall. Her expression was a combina-
tion of joy and sadness, as would be expected of any mother whose
oldest had just tied the knot.
I kissed Traci again and she looked into my eyes, instantly under-
standing and nodding.
I moved over to Leigh and touched her arm. She looked at me, a
tear rolling out of her left eye. She wiped it away and tried to smile.
Justine kissed her mom and then nodded at me.
We moved onto the dance floor together, Leigh putting her head
against my chest much as her daughter had just done. The current
song was not as slow as the previous, but caused me no major prob-
lems.

Leigh sniffled a few times, wiped her eyes on a tissue, and then fi-
nally looked up at me with the best smile she could muster.

“Don’t want to fuck up my makeup too badly,” she quipped sar-
donically. “Took too long to get it straight.”

“Not to worry, luv,” I told her. “You still look fantastic. More like
Erin’s sister than her mom.”

Leigh grinned and stood up on her toes to kiss me on the lips.
“You’re a wonderful liar, Derrick. And I love you for it. And I love
you for everything else you’ve done to help with this. Coming out
here, being there for Erin when her dumb ass father wouldn’t. I still
can’t believe he’s acting the way he is. This is his daughter for
Christ’s sake. His first-born. I know he’s got other kids now, but
still…”
She broke off and shook her head. I squeezed her gently as we
continued to move around the periphery of the dance floor, largely
keeping away from other dancers.
“I need to stop doing that,” Leigh said in a calmer tone a few min-
utes later. “I just need to let it go and enjoy the day. My baby is
happy and healthy—both of them actually. And this day is perfect.
Can’t let that bastard get to me today.”
“Then don’t,” I said simply, and kissed her forehead.
Leigh grinned, exhaled, and then said, “fuck it”.
The reception lasted well into the evening, and by the time it was
done most of the attendees were quite inebriated. Luckily, everyone
had a room at the hotel where the reception was being held.
Being largely a non-drinker, I took it upon myself to see to it that
everyone got to their rooms safely. This task was concluded around
midnight and then Traci and I helped Justine get her mom up to her
suite on the top floor. Leigh had overdone it just a bit, but she was

allowed I suppose, considering all the time she had put in to making
this the best day possible for her daughter. And she had succeeded
brilliantly.

Traci and I retired to our own room a few floors below around
twelve-thirty. We were both exhausted, and Traci was a bit tipsy be-
cause she’d had several glasses of champagne herself.

I locked the door to our room and turned just in time to be pushed
up against that door and kissed very hard on the mouth. I felt a
hand reach for my belt and another slide inside my trousers.

“Damn, woman,” I said when I managed to free my mouth. “Any-
body ever tell you it’s not polite to stick your hands inside a man’s
pants without asking permission first?”

Traci giggled and ignored me.
I shrugged out of my jacket as my trousers were undone and
dropped to the floor. Traci grinned up at me, kissed me full on the
mouth once more, then dropped down on her knees, cupping my
testicles with one hand and taking hold of my already fully extended
member with the other.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Olin,” she teased in a very seductive voice,
twinged with the smallest hint of a southern accent. “It would ap-
pear that there is significant swelling taking place below your belt
line. I suspect a lot of built up pressure. I don’t think this is a
healthy condition at all, especially for a man your age. There’s a
treatment I could recommend. However, I should warn you, the re-
sults of that treatment could be… explosive.”
I laughed, and then groaned as Traci’s grip tightened on me.
We looked into one another’s eyes for several seconds, both of us
knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
Finally, Traci stopped teasing and took me into her mouth.

I inhaled deeply, put my head back against the door, and watched
the whole time as her head moved up and down and her mouth slid
back and forth across my organ.

And she had been right.
The results were rather, ah… explosive!

Chapter 2

Breakfast was out of the question the next morning because most
members of the wedding party probably couldn’t be roused from
bed by an earthquake. That is to say, most members of the party
other than yours truly.

Despite my late night, and even later night festivities with the irre-
pressible and damn near insatiable Traci Brenner, I was still up by
six. Tired, a little sore, but wide awake and grinning like a moron.

Traci was still asleep at that time and I was careful not to disturb
her when getting out of bed. I went into the bathroom and relieved
myself, then washed up before returning to the bedroom.

Much to my delight Traci was still lying on her side asleep, snor-
ing lightly. That made me smile. I eased back in bed and snuggled
up close to her lean body, still naked and warm under the covers.

About an hour later she stirred, moaning and stretching her arms
and back, pressing into me. That had been all it took to get us both
aroused once again…

We showered at eight-thirty and were dressed by nine-thirty. It
had already been agreed that we’d all get together for brunch this
morning around ten-thirty in a private room downstairs. I was look-
ing forward to seeing how many people actually made it, and what
state they were in if they did.

Traci and I went for a brief walk outside. It was raining lightly but
we didn’t mind. The hotel had been kind enough to provide us with
a large golf umbrella and I held it above our heads as we strolled
through the wet downtown streets on this cool Saturday morning.

It was the first time either of us had been to Portland and we fig-
ured we might as well see some of the sights before leaving later on
today.

By ten-thirty Traci and I were back at the hotel and in the private
dining room. Alone.

We were the first, and for about twenty minutes we were the only
ones. Then Justine arrived along with her father, Malcolm Duvall,
Leigh’s second husband. They came over to the table where Traci
and I sat in the back corner, father and daughter both dressed in
jeans and sweaters, both looking slender and healthy, and both grin-
ning.

I stood up and shook Malcolm’s hand, then kissed Justine on the
cheek.

“Somehow I knew you’d be the first down here, Derrick,” Justine
said as her father held out a chair for her.

“You get the best seats when you’re first,” I told her, returning to
my seat next to Traci. “So what have you two been up to this morn-
ing?”

Malcolm Duvall grinned at his daughter again.
“Well this one’s been trying to convince me that she needs a new
laptop for school,” he said. “And she just happened to know that a
computer shop not too far from this very hotel just happens to have
the model she wants. On sale no less! Coincidence, or setup?”
Traci smiled at the younger woman.

“I’m sure your daughter could never be so devious,” Traci said.
“Such a sweet and innocent young lady.”

Justine put her hand to her mouth and coughed, giggling hard.
Traci reached over and patted her other hand.

“Yeah, sure,” Malcolm said as a waitress came over and asked if he
and Justine would like coffee. “My daughter is such an angel. I
know. A devious angel. Yes, ma’am, I’d like coffee,” he said to the
waitress. “Black, no decaf.”

The waitress nodded and looked at Justine. She declined in favor
of orange juice.

The meal was buffet-style so Justine and Malcolm got up to get
food while Traci and I took a few minutes to continue with our
meals. By the time they returned to the table others had begun to ar-
rive.

A little after eleven Leigh Danton came in with a couple I recog-
nized as the parents of the groom. They joined us at our table. Leigh
glanced at me briefly and I tried not to smile. She stuck her tongue
out at me and then looked at her second ex-husband.

“Did she hit you up for a contribution for her new computer yet?”
Leigh asked.

Malcolm nodded, smiling.
“Of course she did. Even took me over to have a look before we
came here.”
Leigh looked at her younger daughter and shook her head.
“God, girl, seems like only yesterday you were a little baby in a
stroller being pushed around the French Quarter in New Orleans.
Now look at you, a freshman in college. And quite an accomplished
manipulator.”

Justine Duvall smiled impishly, pushing her glasses back on her
face.

Leigh leaned over and kissed her.
“We’ll talk about it before we leave.”
Erin and Zach made it just before noon. They had a two o’clock
flight to catch and didn’t intend to stay for more than a few minutes.
This was goodbye.
I waited for my turn standing at my table, and when Erin made
her way over to me there were tears in her beautiful blue eyes. She
hugged me fiercely and could not speak for several minutes. I gently
patted her back and told her how happy I was for her.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled.
I kissed her and then shook hands with her husband, whispering
to him that he should really take very good care of my goddaughter.
From the expression in his brooding eyes I was pretty sure he had
gotten my unstated message. Hopefully he would never forget it. For
his sake.
A taxi awaited them outside. Straight to the airport and then off to
Hawaii for the honeymoon for the next two weeks. Then a lifetime
of bliss and happiness.
If only.
Later in the afternoon everyone checked out of their rooms and
met in the lobby. Traci and I were flying back to Birmingham this
evening but had a little time to kill. We planned on driving around
and seeing more sights, and then maybe have a late meal before
heading over to the airport.
Leigh was talking to her daughter and her father when Traci
leaned over and told me she was going to the ladies’ room. I nodded,
and after she was gone Leigh came over and took my arm.

“Are you two getting ready to head out?” she asked.
“In a bit,” I said. “Going sightseeing before heading to the airport.
It’s raining but this is Portland after all.”
“It is,” she said. “And Erin loves it out here. I can see why. It really
is beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And not nearly as hot as Birmingham gets in the
summer; or as snowy as Chicago is right now.”
Leigh groaned and nodded vigorously.
“You’ve got that right. I saw the weather report this morning.
They got another eight inches last night. Hopefully I’ll be able to get
back tonight without too much delay. Gotta be back at work on
Monday.”
“So how is the forensic accounting business going these days?” I
asked.
“Really well,” Leigh said. “I got on with a good firm in the city, lots
of clients, lots of work. And I like the work. Not quite the same as
when I was a PI, different, definitely more challenging than catching
cheating spouses and such. It’s a good fit for me.”
“Well I’m glad. Just wish you hadn’t had to go so far away. I miss
seeing you more often.”
Leigh smiled.
“Chicago’s not that far from Birmingham, Derrick. They’re even in
the same time-zone. Flight time is about an hour and a half, too. As
a matter of fact, when Justine gets out for summer break I’m com-
ing down to Atlanta to pick her up and then we’re going to go over to
Birmingham to spend some time with my mom. I’m sure I’ll see you
then. If you’re not off saving the world again that is.”
I grinned and put my hands on her shoulders, staring deeply into
her eyes.

“The world is no longer my concern, luv,” I told her, a hint of
melancholy in my voice. “My focus is much narrower these days.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her face suddenly serious.
“You really do love her, don’t you, Derrick?”
I didn’t respond right away, actually took the time to think about
it. Then I sighed.
“As much as I’m capable of,” I said finally. “Which I suppose is my
way of saying yes. Probably.”
Leigh started laughing, poked me in the stomach, then stood up
on her toes and kissed me on the lips.
“I love you and you’ll never change,” she said. “And that’s why I
love you. She’s a great woman and exactly what you need. I’m glad
you two found each other again. Be happy, Derrick. You deserve it.
Everybody does. I’m working on it myself right now. Fingers
crossed.”
I stared at her with a raised brow and she shook her head.
“Not ready to talk about it yet,” she said.
I nodded, understanding.
Traci returned and came over to us. She and Leigh hugged and
said goodbye, then Leigh hugged and kissed me once more.
I picked up our bags and Traci took my left arm.
“Ready, luv?” I said.
“Of course, luv,” she said. “Always ready with you.”
I smiled.
We left.

Chapter 3

Birmingham, Alabama

It was the middle of March and the weather couldn’t quite decide
what it wanted to do. Some days it was winter, cold, rainy, even
snowy. Then other days it was warm and sunny like spring. Today it
was more of the former.

It was Wednesday and I had a meeting with a potential client. The
guy was from California and had come to town on business. He
mentioned some names that I knew from the LA area and said they
had recommended me to him when he had inquired about profes-
sional bodyguards in my area. The people he mentioned were peo-
ple I respected so I felt it was probably worth my time to at least
meet with the guy.

He had a room on the eighth floor of the Marriott off of Highway
280 on Grandview Parkway. I arrived at the hotel at eight-thirty and
spent a little time looking around before heading upstairs for our
nine o’clock meeting.

Sam Rockford was a slight man with dark curly hair, a wispy goa-
tee, and perfect white teeth. He was also a snappy dresser; the suit
he was wearing probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. And
my car.

“Mr. Rockford,” I said. “Derrick Olin.”
Rockford smiled gregariously and extended his hand. It, too, was
slight, but the handshake was firm, or as firm as he could make it.

He invited me in and told me I could sit in the chair at the desk
while he sat down on the front edge of the unmade bed.

I turned around to face him fully and saw that he was looking at
me intently. I suspected that he was appraising me, trying to decide
if I was right for the job he had in mind. This was nothing new to
me, happened pretty much every time I met with a potential client. I
simply sat patiently and waited.

“I was told that you’ve been in the security business for a long
time, Mr. Olin,” Rockford finally said, crossing his legs and adjust-
ing the creases in his trousers. “More than twenty years?”

“Correct,” I told him. “Ten in the Air Force and the rest in civilian
life.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I recall something about your being
some kind of agent or something in the Air Force. What was it ex-
actly that you did?”

“OSI special agent,” I told him. “Office of Special Investigations.
Kind of like the Air Force’s version of the FBI.”

Another nod.
“And you did that for ten years?”
“Eight,” I told him. “Before that I was in what used to be known as
the Security Police. Now the Security Forces.”
“I see,” he said, still looking at me appraisingly. “And you were
trained as a bodyguard while in the Air Force?”
“Yes,” I told him. “Although they don’t call it bodyguarding any-
more. Close-protection is the term in-vogue these days. But no need
to split hairs.”
“Are you good at your work, Mr. Olin?”
“My clients seem to think so,” I responded without missing a beat.
“And since none of them are dead…”

Rockford smiled a little, nodding some more.
“Point taken. You never asked on the phone, but I suppose I
should now tell you why I want to hire you.”
“That would be good,” I said.
“Tell me, Mr. Olin, have you had much experience with stalking?”
“Some,” I told him. “Is that your problem? You have a stalker?”
“Not me,” he answered quickly. “But my client does. Are you
aware who Kory Levin is, Mr. Olin?”
“It’s Derrick, please,” I told him. “And I believe he’s an actor.”
This response seemed to jar Rockford a little, probably not used to
someone not being intimately familiar with his client’s name and ré-
sumé.
“Yes, he is. And quite popular these days. Three of the last five
major blockbusters in the past couple of years have been his. He’s
been on the cover of all the industry magazines, some of them mul-
tiple times. His Facebook page has more hits than any other
celebrity at the moment.”
“How nice for him,” I replied, probably more drearily than I
should have. “And I take it one of his fans has taken more than a
passing interest in your client?”
“You could say that,” Rockford said. “Guy’s name is Max Bandini.
A photographer from Santa Barbara. He follows Kory everywhere.
Taking pictures, trying to get close to him, sending him stuff in the
mail. Once we even caught him in Kory’s place in Beverly Hills. That
time we managed to get the cops there quick enough and they ar-
rested him.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He was slapped with a restraining order?”
Rockford nodded.

“Yeah. And he was ordered to stay at least five hundred feet away
at all times.”

“But he hasn’t always obeyed that condition, right?”
“Not that we can actually prove,” Rockford admitted. “But we
know he hasn’t.”
“The police any help?”
“They do what they can,” he said. “Some detectives from the
Threat Management Unit of the LAPD have met with Bandini sev-
eral times, even done a psych profile on him.”
“Conclusion?” I asked.
Rockford snorted, then smiled.
“Says he’s a fruitcake obsessed with my client.”
I nodded.
“And they can’t do a thing about him because there’s no proof he’s
actually done anything since the break-in.”
“Exactly,” Rockford said.
“You didn’t come all this way to hire a bodyguard, Mr. Rockford,”
I said. “There are plenty of good ones on the west coast. The guys
who recommended me fit that bill.”
“Yes, of course. And call me Sam. No, I don’t want to hire you to
work out in LA. When we feel the need for a security escort in LA we
know who to call. But my client is coming here this weekend for
some research. He’s going to be doing a docudrama, part of which
will be shot here in Birmingham. It’s his first project as a producer
and co-director. It is on a subject that is really dear to him.”
“And you think this Bandini character will be here as well?” I said.
“Most definitely,” Rockford said. “He goes everywhere else. And
when he travels, Kory is at his most vulnerable. That’s why I like to

hire local security whenever possible. People who know the lay of
the land. That’s why I want to hire you, Derrick. If you’re available.”

I was introspective for a few moments. Ordinarily I shunned
celebrities. Nothing personal, just not my cup of tea. Especially the
really high-profile ones. But this job sounded like it could be more
than just mere window-dressing. And since Mr. Levin was so suc-
cessful, it was probably a good bet that his check wouldn’t bounce.
Always a nice thing.

I nodded.
“All right, Mr. Rockford. Sam. I believe I can help you.”
Sam Rockford smiled, a look of relief coloring his face.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
We discussed my fee and he wrote a retainer check for me from a
business account. Today was Wednesday and Levin wasn’t getting in
until Sunday night so I had a couple days for the check to clear be-
fore I had to start work. Good, that way there’d be no nasty sur-
prises about “insufficient funds” in the middle of the job. That could
get awkward.
I shook hands with the business manager and then took my leave.
There was a branch of my bank not all that far away and it would be
my first stop.
Later I might drive down to Oak Mountain and see if a certain
equestrian expert was free for a fancy lunch.
And maybe a little more if her day wasn’t too full.

Chapter 4

Friday night Traci and I were at her place making dinner. It was our
regular routine, something we both enjoyed and looked forward to.

We were in the kitchen of her spacious modern home on Tulip
Poplar Drive in Hoover at a quarter after seven. Traci was on one
side of the island in the middle of the room mixing up biscuit dough
and I was on the other side chopping up cucumbers for the salad.
There was a CD player on the sink counter and Mozart was playing
softly in the background.

Traci glanced over at me and smiled.
“You look so domesticated,” she said.
I smirked at her, still chopping away.
“I’ll show you domesticated, missy. Later. After dinner.”
“Can’t wait,” she said, then turned the dough out onto a flour-cov-
ered sheet of wax paper on the island countertop.
I smiled and finished what I was doing.
When Traci had the biscuits cut and in the pan, she went over to
the oven and popped them in. I was staring at her backside as she
bent down and when she glanced back over her shoulder she caught
me.
“Were you staring at my ass again, Mr. Olin?”
“Well it was up in the air and all,” I said. “What’s a guy to do?”
This time Traci smirked, stood up, and closed the oven door.

“A gentleman would avert his eyes,” she said, coming back to the
island and picking up the half consumed glass of chardonnay she
had been sipping while we prepared dinner.

“Well then now you know why I didn’t avert my eyes. No gentle-
man am I.”

Traci smiled and sipped more wine.
I was done with the salad and put everything into a large Tupper-
ware bowl with a lid, then put it into the stainless steel side-by-side
refrigerator/freezer in the back corner of the kitchen.
I walked around to where Traci stood and leaned my back against
the counter, staring down into her sparkling brown eyes.
“By the way, toots, for a chick in her early forties, you still got a
cute booty.”
Traci nearly choked, put her glass down, and poked me in the
arm.
“Not fair,” she managed after a few moments. “Not when I’m
drinking something, Derrick. I almost did a spit-take.”
I chuckled, turning and taking her in my arms.
“Now that would have been funny,” I told her, then leaned my face
toward hers and we kissed.
We had dinner in the kitchen since it was just the two of us. Salad,
grilled ribeye steaks, mashed potatoes, and southern style home-
made buttermilk biscuits. Traci had another glass of wine with din-
ner and I decided to join her, just to be sociable. Probably the only
glass that I would have this month.
“I still find it hard to believe that you don’t know more about Kory
Levin,” Traci said after chewing a mouthful of steak and wiping her
thin lips on a napkin. “I mean I know you avoid popular culture and

all, rarely go to the movies, and hardly ever watch the news. But
still…”

“I’ve heard the name,” I said, briefly sipping my wine and then
putting the glass back down, taking up my knife and fork. “I know
he’s in movies, but so is Tom Cruise. Nothing special as far as I’m
concerned.”

Traci shook her head and dug into her mashed potatoes.
“God, Derrick, I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“I’ve got a few suggestions,” I said lecherously.
She smirked, pointing her fork at me across the table.
“I’ll bet you do. But I might have to educate you a bit on pop cul-
ture beforehand. Just so you can effectively do your job next week.”
“Not the kind of education I was hoping for tonight,” I said.
Traci shook her head and grinned despite herself, then went back
to eating.
“So this guy has been following Kory around for a while?” she said
once she had swallowed, reaching for her wine glass.
“That’s what his manager says. Been going on for a couple of
years. They have a restraining order, but those are only good if the
person they’re issued against is the law-abiding type. Rarely the case
with stalkers. And as long as he stays five hundred feet away, he
isn’t violating it.”
“But they suspect he has violated it before?” Traci said.
“They’re pretty sure,” I said. “Just can’t prove it.”
“And they think he’ll follow Kory here?”
“Yes. As he has done many other places. I’ve got the guy’s file on
my computer at home and will be spending some time studying it
tomorrow. It’s pretty extensive, including a workup from LAPD’s
Threat Management Unit which specializes in handling stalkers.”

“Has he ever tried to hurt Kory?” Traci asked.
“No,” I said. “But he has violated his home before. Certainly not
the behavior of a rational person, and that means he could be very
dangerous. As is the case with a lot of stalkers. Especially the ones
who target celebrities.”
Traci sighed.
“Well I know I don’t have to say it, but I will. You be very careful,
Derrick. I know how good you are at your work, but crazy is crazy.”
I nodded.
“It is. And I will, luv.”
We stared at one another for a few moments and then finished
our meals.
Afterwards we rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
Traci pressed her body against mine and was about to kiss me when
the phone rang. She glanced over at it, and then at the clock on the
wall above the door.
“If I didn’t suspect I knew who was calling now I’d let the machine
get it.”
I nodded, knowing as well.
Traci stepped away and went over to the phone mounted on the
wall beside the cupboard.
“Well you haven’t forgotten the phone number of the woman who
carried you for nine months and three days,” she said into the re-
ceiver. “Who changed your diapers, wiped your nose, grounded you
for weeks of your life…”
Traci was smiling now, leaning back against the wall as she talked
to her son M.J.—Marcus Brenner, Jr. He was a sophomore at MIT
in Boston now, well on the way to earning, no doubt, the first of
many degrees in computer science. A smart kid with a bright future;

and he loved his mother, usually called her every Friday night. Or
he’d hear about it for the next several months.

I stood and watched as Traci spoke to her son, knowing how
happy the experience made her. They talked about everything, no
subject taboo, not even their love lives.

And when that subject came up Traci grinned at me and told her
son that I was standing just a few feet away. Another exchange took
place and this left Traci giggling like a teenager.

“And that’s none of your business, sonny boy. But I could ask you
the same thing. I don’t mind being a grandmother some day. But af-
ter you finish college and get a good job.”

More laughter, and more conversation.
Before they hung up M.J. asked to speak to me and we had a brief
talk, then he and his mother wrapped up and said goodbye.
When Traci hung up the receiver she was smiling, but I could see
a little sadness in her eyes as well. She was happy that her son was
doing well, but she missed him terribly.
I took her in my arms, kissed her forehead, then held her closely
for several minutes.
Eventually she pulled back a little and looked up into my eyes.
“I think we were about to go and do something else before the kid
called,” Traci said. “But for the life of me I just can’t remember
what?”
I smiled, leaning close to her left ear, whispering.
Traci started giggling again.
“Ah,” she said. “Now that sounds familiar. And you’re sure you
can do that with your tongue?”
“But of course, my lady,” I told her. “And oh so much more.”
Traci grinned and kissed me.

“Well then, sir, I am entirely in your hands.”
“You can say that again,” I told her, then picked her up and hur-
riedly carried her out of the kitchen, up the front stairs, and into her
bedroom.

Chapter 5

Saturday morning Traci had a special class to teach at the eques-
trian ranch at Oak Mountain State Park near Pelham and this meant
I was on my own for most of the day. That was fine. I had spent a lot
of my life alone and was quite happy and content when there was no
one else around. However, I must admit that since Traci and I be-
came exclusive a few years ago I have begun to miss her presence
more and more when absent from it. A bit odd for me, considering
all the years of personal isolation, but it didn’t bother me either. I
rather liked it.

Yeah, I was definitely getting older!
When I left the Air Force back in 1999 I had moved back to Birm-
ingham briefly to take care of some family obligations. It was never
my intention to remain here and so I took a temporary furnished
apartment in Homewood off Green Springs Highway. It came
equipped with everything, right down to sheets and pillows for the
bed; and generic pictures on the wall. That had been fine with me,
as I had said, it was only temporary. And I wasn’t much for decorat-
ing anyway.
Well after nearly a decade and a half I was still in the same apart-
ment. And it didn’t look like I’d be moving any time soon. Traci and
I liked our lives the way they were. We saw each other often, spent
nights together several times a week, but saw no need to move in to-

gether. We both liked our own space and felt it best not to rock the
boat. Very practical on the part of both of us. And this probably did
a lot to ensure that our relationship would be a long lasting one.

However, since Traci had come back into my life after a long ab-
sence, she had decided that if I was going to keep living in my fur-
nished apartment then I needed to make it more personal, more
inviting. So now there were personal touches everywhere, just not
mine.

The bedroom was the most affected, new bedclothes, new curtains
and blinds, and new pictures on the walls. Also on the nightstands
on either side of the bed. One of Traci alone wearing a plain white
blouse with the top two buttons undone, her hair straight and a little
mussed. I liked to think of it as her wanton and defiant look. The
other picture was of the two of us together on a beach down in the
Bahamas about two years ago. Traci wearing a knee-length floral
print dress, me wearing khaki shorts and a green T-shirt, both of us
wearing big straw hats and barefoot.

I took a few minutes each day that I was home to study both pho-
tos and remember. It was one of the most peaceful times of my day.

This Saturday morning I woke at six and went for a five mile run,
then came back and spent an hour and a half working out hard. Ev-
erything from pushups and situps to full-on unarmed combat with
my freestanding bag out on the back deck. I was sure that my neigh-
bors were annoyed, but also pretty sure they wouldn’t complain. Be-
sides, over the years many more disturbing things had occurred as a
result of my being in residence here, so a little noise on a bright and
sunny, slightly chilly, Saturday morning shouldn’t even be a blip on
the radar.

After my workout I spent some time soaking in the tub and read-
ing the last new novel I ever would read by Robert B. Parker. My
hero had died recently. I was very sad about that, and had put off
reading the last novel he penned for as long as I could. Now it was
time, and it was a sad time. What a hell of a writer, and a hell of a
man. He would be greatly missed, and his works.

I made a good breakfast and then went into the front room to eat
it and turn on my computer. Today I had no plans until the evening
when Traci would be finished working. So I intended to dedicate the
rest of the morning and most of the afternoon to getting to know
both my client and his stalker. Most everything I needed to know
was contained in two files on my computer. And after I had read
them carefully I’d probably go online and spend some time doing in-
dependent research.

Tomorrow Kory Levin would arrive in Birmingham and my latest
assignment would begin. Would it be routine and peaceful, or would
something interesting happen? Would Max Bandini show up, and if
he did would he cause problems? Only the universe knew for cer-
tain, so all I could do was prepare and be prepared.

I was swallowing some cereal when my computer finally finished
booting up. I opened the file on Kory Levin and began to read. This
was the really exciting part of my work. So much so that I often
thought of slitting my wrists during the process.

But I refrained, and got through with it. Barely.
If I were the type who was interested in celebrities this probably
would be very fascinating, but since I’m not…
Max Bandini’s file came next. It was more interesting to me, prob-
ably because he was the threat that my client faced and I had to find
the best way of dealing with him should the need arise. The threat

report compiled by the LAPD was standard, a few interesting tidbits
here and there, but not anything that would really help me. It was a
standard stalker personality analysis. Generic really. Could apply to
a lot of people; probably did. That was the problem with profiling, it
really was nothing more than guesswork. And the guesses could eas-
ily be wrong; sometimes were. Quite often, actually.

Next, I did my internet research and learned a few more things,
none really that helpful either, but having more information than I
knew what to do with was better in my opinion than the other way
around.

I read everything twice, making and eating lunch in the process,
and then around four-thirty I could take it no more. Luckily Traci
called around that time to tell me that she was heading home for the
day.

This made me very happy. What made me even happier was when
she told me she’d be at my place by seven.

Enough prep, I thought. At least for the job. Levin would come in
tomorrow and I’d do my job the best way I knew how; which after
more than two decades was pretty damn well. And if Max Bandini
showed up I’d deal with him. Of that I was certain.

I shut down the computer and went to shower and change.
Tonight we wouldn’t make dinner. I’d order from the Chop Suey Inn
just down the road and go pick it up right before Traci arrived.

We both loved Chinese food. And we both loved eating it off of
one another even more.

Oh yes, Derrick Olin, tonight is going to be a very good night.
And I was excited already.
Very excited.

Chapter 6

Kory Levin arrived at the Birmingham International Airport by pri-
vate jet at 4:30 Sunday afternoon. I had already made arrangements
with airport security and was able to wait right inside the private
hangar to which Civil Aviation directed the plane. Sam Rockford
was with me and he made the introductions.

Levin was thirty, medium height, athletic build, and lots of thick,
dark hair all over his head. There was also about two or three days’
worth of beard growth on his otherwise smooth face. He appeared
to be tired, which was understandable considering the long flight. I
walked the two of them over to the dark colored Ford SUV that I had
selected as the transport vehicle, and once they were in the back I
turned and waited for an aircrew member to bring down the lug-
gage, just two bags, and put it in the SUV’s rear storage area.

There was no one else traveling with Levin. Rockford explained
that the actor liked to travel light, especially when he was doing
work on his own. So it would be just the two of them. That was fine
by me. I had not been looking forward to being surrounded by an
entourage anyway.

It was warm and sunny this afternoon and it made the drive back
down to Highway 280 a very pleasant one. As I drove, Rockford
filled Levin in on everything he had set up while awaiting his arrival.

Levin had his head back and his eyes closed, but every now and then
I would see him nod his head in the rearview mirror.

The trip only took twenty-two minutes and I pulled into a spot
around back of the Marriott just a few spaces down from the rear
entrance. I instructed both men to remain in the vehicle until I told
them otherwise, then got out and had a quick look around.

Not many cars in the lot this afternoon. I glanced around for a few
minutes, walked over to the hotel’s back door and made sure it was
unlocked, then went back to the SUV and opened the door on the
side Levin sat.

He climbed out and slipped on a pair of dark shades. I told him
we’d go inside and up to his suite then I’d have someone deliver his
bags. Rockford said that wasn’t necessary, we could go on up and
he’d get the bags. I glanced at him briefly, somewhat surprised.
Guess being the business manager of a highly successful Hollywood
star hadn’t gone to his head after all. How refreshing.

I took Levin inside and around the corner to the bank of elevators.
A few people passed us in the corridor but none seemed to recognize
my client. Probably the shades and the facial hair helped, and the
fact that he looked a little rumpled.

The suite was on the fourth floor. I had insisted on a floor no
higher than six for safety reasons. It was a well-known fact that the
ladders on fire trucks could not reach higher than the sixth floor of
most hotels. It was also well-established that jumping into an airbag
from higher than six floors could result in unfortunate circum-
stances for the jumper. And so my client was on the fourth floor.

It was a two room suite, nothing overly ostentatious, but comfort-
able. The first thing Levin did when he walked in was head to the
bathroom. I glanced around and waited. A few minutes later there

was a knock at the door. It was Sam Rockford with the bags. He took
them into the bedroom and set them on the bed, then came back out
to the front room.

“He’ll probably want to get some rest,” Rockford said to me.
“Then maybe go out to dinner some place later. I’ve got some rec-
ommendations. He loves sushi and there’s a place close by. Kobe’s.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We passed it on the way in. Just off the highway.
And if I’m not mistaken, they do have private rooms.”

“They do,” Rockford confirmed. “If Kory wants to go I’ll see if I
can book one. You will accompany us?”

“Of course,” I told him. “I’m officially on the clock now.”
Kory Levin reentered the room at that moment, minus the jacket
to the suit he was wearing. He had rolled up his sleeves, revealing
muscular forearms, and undone more buttons on the front of his
shirt. He went over to the sofa and plopped down.
“Do you want something to drink, Kory?” Rockford asked. “The
room is fully stocked.”
Levin waved a hand and then rotated his neck from side to side a
few times. He glanced at me and stared for a few seconds.
“Why don’t we talk first? Derrick, right?”
I nodded, walking over. He indicated the plush armchair across
from the sofa and I sat. Sam Rockford moved over and sat on the
opposite end of the sofa.
“So I’m sure Sam has explained my situation to you,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“And you understand everything about my stalker, Max Bandini?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What do you think about the situation?”

“Typical stalker obsession,” I told him. “Unfortunately nothing
new. I do have a few questions for you, though. Sam was thorough,
but I would like to get a few things directly from you, if you don’t
mind?”

Levin nodded and sat back, crossing his legs.
“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you need. I understand you have a job
to do. I’ve dealt with bodyguards and protection agents plenty over
the past couple of years, thanks to this prick. Ask whatever you
need.”
“All right,” I nodded. “First, have you ever had any direct contact
with him besides the time he entered your home?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Levin said. “But from some of the notes
he’s left me over time it would appear that he at least believes we
have. And he is a photographer so it is possible that we have run
into each other some place. Probably where he developed his infatu-
ation. But I couldn’t confirm it if that is the case.”
“Or he might simply have seen some of your movies,” I said. “Like
John Hinkley with Jodie Foster. Saw her in ‘Taxi Driver’ and went
gaga.”
“Yeah,” Levin sighed. “And shot Reagan because of it. I know.
Next question.”
The list was short and Levin answered everything patiently. When
I was done he asked Rockford to make him a drink. Rockford looked
at me and I said I’d take cranberry juice if it were available. It was.
The three of us sat once more and then I asked about the itinerary
during Levin’s visit.
“Well, Derrick,” Rockford began, sipping from the scotch and soda
he had made for himself, “as I explained, Kory is here to do research
for a docudrama that he is going to both co-direct and star in. There

are some locations he wants to scout and some people he wants to
talk to. This process will take about two weeks. It is our hope that he
can remain anonymous while in town, but that is not really very
likely. Even though his room is in my name, sooner or later a maid
or some staffer is bound to recognize him. In addition to handling
the situation with Max Bandini if he shows up, we would like you to
assist in keeping as much order as possible. Kory is always willing to
sign autographs and take photos with fans, but I’m sure you know
how intrusive that can be.”

I nodded.
“Sure. Do you have a list of the people you’ll be meeting with?”
“I do,” Rockford said. “At least a partial one. It’s in my room. I’ll
get it in a bit. And there are locations marked on a map on my com-
puter. I can get that for you as well.”
“Good,” I said. “And will you be starting all this in the morning or
taking a day to rest up?”
“I’ll rest tonight,” Levin said, finishing the last of his drink and
setting the empty tumbler down on the coffee table in front of him.
“I want to get started first thing in the morning.”
“All right,” I said. “No problem there. Sam, if you can get me the
schedule for each day at least a day in advance it would be much ap-
preciated. People you intend to meet, places you intend to go. I
know there will probably be some changes and substitutions from
time to time and I’ll work around that, but having a baseline from
which to operate will be very helpful for my advance prep.”
Rockford nodded.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Right,” I said. “And now, what about dinner?”

Rockford explained the available selections and Levin picked
Kobe’s. I was glad of that. It was close by and there was the privacy
factor. Hopefully we could get him in without anybody recognizing
him and he could have a meal in peace. Then back here for bed be-
fore beginning a full day in the morning.

Sounded like a plan.
Hopefully it would work out that way.

Chapter 7

“So have you gotten the dish on any other Hollywood hunks like
Denzel Washington or Colin Farrell yet?”

I chuckled and put my head back on the armrest of the sofa in my
living room. It was eleven o’clock and I had been home for five min-
utes. Dinner was done, my client had gotten through it unnoticed,
and now he was back in his suite at the Marriott safely tucked in for
the evening. Hopefully all would remain right with his world at least
until morning.

“Actually I was more interested in the Hollywood babes, Nicole
Kidman, Angelina Jolie, and the like.”

Traci snorted down the line.
“In a pig’s eye,” she said. “Yeah, Kidman, maybe. She’s the right
age, but I know you’re kidding about Jolie. Too young for you; and
you don’t like big lips on a woman.”
“According to whom?” I rejoined.
“According to the woman who is going to pull your pants down
and spank you the next time she sees you if you don’t behave.”
I chuckled again, adjusting my position on the sofa, crossing my
ankles.
“Well in that case I think I’ll be even naughtier. I like it when you
pull my pants down.”
Traci giggled.

“I noticed that about you,” she said.
We were silent for a time. The lights were out in my apartment
but I could see light spilling in from the outside around the blinds in
the front room.
“So you’ll be busy all day tomorrow, huh?”
“Looks like it,” I told her. “Gotta be at the hotel at eight-thirty.
Probably stay with him through dinner tomorrow night. If he wants
to go out again. Maybe he’ll order room service. He appears to want
to remain anonymous this trip and staying in most evenings will
help. What are you up to tomorrow, luv?”
“Got a new instructor coming in for orientation,” Traci told me.
“He’s really good with the horses, and his résumé is flawless. We
were lucky to get him so quickly. If he works out—fingers crossed—
we’ll be able to expand our classes later this year. That is, if we get
the budget I’m hoping for. Which means I’m gonna have to work my
butt off on fundraising in a little while.”
“Well don’t work too much of it off,” I told her with a snicker.
“You know that is one of my favorite parts of you.”
Traci laughed.
“Oh, is that why you keep licking it?”
“Exactly,” I said, and we both laughed.
“What are some of your other favorite parts?” she teased.
“If you don’t know what they are by now then I’m obviously doing
something wrong.”
She giggled.
“Hardly. But tell me anyway.”
So I did.
When I was done we were both most aroused.

“God I’m soaking wet here, Derrick,” Traci moaned. “You just
make me so horny.”

“Feeling’s mutual, babe,” I told her, my left hand resting on the
crotch of my jeans. “You have no idea how hard he is right now.”

“Love to find out,” she said in a husky voice. “I’d love to have him
in my mouth right now.”

I groaned.
“Sounds nice,” I breathed. “So nice. Would you like to have my
tongue inside you right now?”
Traci inhaled sharply and moaned.
“Oh god, Derrick… Oh…”
Phone sex is never as satisfying as the real thing, but it does have
its uses.
I talked Traci through an orgasm and had to undo my jeans before
she was done. When she caught her breath she started whispering
all the things that she was doing to me, even making little noises
that drove me absolutely nuts.
It had been my plan to stop before reaching climax, but Traci is
very good at this and I couldn’t. And I really didn’t want to.
When I could breathe again I started laughing.
“Now I’ve got to wash this shirt and these jeans before I can wear
them again.”
“Good,” Traci replied smartly. “Now I’m not the only one.”
“I love you,” I said.
“Good to know,” she said. “Because I love you, too, you big stud.
And hopefully at some point in the next few days we can get to-
gether and do this in person. You know how much I hate waste. In-
stead of coming all over your shirt and pants, it would have been
much nicer if you could’ve come inside me.”

I groaned, then chuckled.
“Yeah,” I said. “My thoughts exactly. And before you make me
come again…”
We said good night and I stood up carefully, walking toward the
bathroom to wash up and get ready for bed.
Yeah, more satisfying in person.
But still not too bad.
Especially with Traci Brenner on the other end of the phone.

Chapter 8

Kory Levin’s docudrama was about the effect of the economy on
middle-class families; how the recession and the slow recovery had
caused many of them to fall into a level of poverty from which many
were not likely to recover. He was particularly interested in high-
lighting the growing number of middle-class homeless in the urban
areas. For his film he intended to use ten cities, large and small, and
Birmingham had been selected as one of them.

Levin’s first meeting Monday morning was with a minor member
of the Birmingham City Council. In the councilor’s other life he was
a moderately successful attorney with a small practice on 4th Av-
enue South. In order to remain low-key Levin had requested that
the councilor and he meet in the man’s private office and this was
agreed upon.

We arrived at nine-fifteen and the secretary at the front desk
asked us to wait while she called her boss. I could tell right away
that she recognized Levin, had probably already known he was com-
ing. Soon the cat would be out of the bag and all the things I hated
about celebrity security would be coming to pass.

Well at least I was getting a nice paycheck for the aggravation.
The councilor came to the door of his office and greeted Kory
Levin warmly, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

Levin was gracious, charming, proving that he was a really good ac-
tor.

Sam Rockford was introduced as well and then there was a brief
nod in my direction, a vague reference to the fact that I was a local
guide. The councilor seemed to buy this but I didn’t think the secre-
tary did.

The three of them went into the councilor’s office and I remained
outside in the secretary’s office. She leaned forward on her desk for
a few minutes and studied me. I glanced around the small office and
then went to the sofa on the front wall and sat down, leafing through
the magazines on the table in front of it.

When I looked up the secretary was still looking at me.
“Local guide, huh?” she smirked as her phone started ringing.
“Yeah, right.”
She answered the phone and I continued glancing at magazines,
but never losing track of what I was really doing.

Chapter 9

Tuesday morning it rained.
Heavy rain.
Cold rain.
The temperatures for today would not rise out of the high thirties.

But the show had to go on. So I dressed for the weather and went to
pick my client up at his hotel at eight-thirty.

This morning he was not meeting with any politicians or bureau-
crats as he had on Monday. First thing today he had a meeting with
a very special person who had dedicated most of her adult life to the
plight of the homeless. A woman I both admired and respected.
Which was saying a lot because there weren’t all that many people I
even liked, let alone respected or admired. However, Kimberly Sut-
ton was one of the few who fell into both categories.

Kim Sutton was a social worker, but so much more. For most of
the last decade she had been the Executive Director of the Homeless
Outreach Mission in downtown Birmingham, an organization that
was truly committed to finding solutions to the problems of the
homeless; to ending homelessness and hunger if at all possible.
With Kim Sutton at the helm it was making great strides in both
those directions, despite the difficulty with the current economy.

I had first come in contact with Kim several years ago when a
street gang had targeted her outfit, attacking its members, burning