by Miley Maine
“A class would be best,” he said. “But you’re stuck with me for now.”
I happened to disagree. I couldn’t imagine a more thorough teacher, or a more serious one. Owen didn’t joke around, or tease me at all while we were at the range. “We're starting with a handgun,” he said. He was patient as he explained the different parts of the gun, and the way it worked, and how to be diligent about safety.
“How do you know so much about guns?” I asked. “I never knew accountants carried a handgun.”
“I grew up hunting,” he said.
“In San Francisco? With a handgun?” It was true that I’d never been to California, but all my perceptions of San Francisco did not include people chasing animals with handguns. My family weren’t hunters, but several of our neighbors were. During deer season, they’d share their venison with us. They’d always had big shotguns and rifles lying around the house.
‘My grandparents lived in Mississippi,” he said. “My grandfather was an Army Ranger, and he taught me how to use a handgun. He also took me hunting. As a teenager, I hunted deer, quail, and turkey.”
“Did you like it?” I asked.
“What? Hunting or guns?”
“Both.”
“I liked the guns a whole lot more than I liked killing the animals.” He shrugged. “But we ate them, or gave them to others who ate them, so it didn’t bother me.”
After we finished with the handgun, we moved on to a rifle, which I didn’t enjoy, because of the kickback, but I did hit the paper target most of the time.
“That’s enough for now,” he said. “You’ve got the basics.”
When Owen came to the door on Friday night, he had a glint in his eye again, exactly like the one he’d had yesterday when he suggested the gun range. “The weather is nice,” he said after greeting me with a kiss.
It was a little cloudy, but it was almost seventy degrees, and the wind wasn’t blowing. But I wasn’t sure why the weather mattered unless he wanted to swim. “What are you up to now?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’re up to something,” I said.
“Well. I did have a suggestion about how we spend our time tonight.”
“I knew it,” I said. “You might as well tell me what it is.”
He tugged on the sleeve of my mint-green tunic. “Do you have any athletic clothes?”
The tunic was comfortable, but it was more like a dress than a shirt, and underneath I had on white leggings. “Yes. Mrs. Laurent supplied those along with everything else, but I’ve hardly worn them. I walk and swim so much with Gabriel that I don’t really do any separate workouts.”
“Have you ever tried martial arts?” he asked.
“No. I took one physical education class in college, and that was ballet.”
“Ballet? You must be graceful, so that will help.”
“Help with what?” I asked. “Are we going to be tightrope walking?”
He wrapped his arm around me as we strolled through the mansion. It was still a little awkward to be dating in such close proximity to both our bosses, but gradually we’d both grown more comfortable being affectionate around other people.
“I want to teach you self-defense,” he said.
“Now that sounds like a reasonable use of time.” Self-defense was on my list of skills to tackle, but I’d never had the money or the time until now.
“Very different reaction than you had about the shooting lessons,” he teased.
“Well, you have to admit that shooting a gun is very different from knowing how to defend yourself. At college, the teachers always recommended that we take self-defense classes, for both male and female social workers. Some social workers have to go into homes to check on children. And the social workers are definitely not welcome in some of those homes.”
“Your teachers were right,” he said, stopping when we got to the staircase that led up to my room. “So did you take self-defense?”
“No. The seminars were only offered at times when I was already working, or they had a fee attached, and I couldn't afford it.”
“It’s quite an oversight that they weren’t a required part of your curriculum.” He rubbed his hands together. “But I can fix that.”
“What are we going to be doing?” I asked.
“We’ll start with Jiu-Jitsu. A one-day seminar of self-defense is better than nothing. But to truly defend yourself, you need practice and repetition. You need to spar, over and over. That way you won’t freeze in a real situation. So we’re going to practice for the next year.”
The next year? We still hadn’t discussed our future, or even what our dating status was, so his comment that he was planning to stick around for the long haul came as news to me.
“Unless you don’t want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said.
“Oh no, I’m looking forward to it.” I’d felt uneasy around the guns. No matter how much Owen reassured me that they were safe when handled properly, I just didn’t like them. But sparring with Owen sounded like fun.
“Perfect,” he said. “Then get changed and meet me in the backyard.”
In my room, I found workout clothes that looked just as stylish as my regular clothes. I put on a gray tank top and black pants and put my hair into a bun.
Owen drove us to one of the less crowded parks, and unrolled a mat on the grass.
His tight t-shirt showed off his strong arms and chest, and his athletic shorts showed off his toned legs. I let my eyes rove over his body, appreciating the hard planes and strong muscles.
“I don’t know if I can concentrate when you’re looking at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?” I asked. I licked my lips for good measure.
“You are so tempting. And I want nothing more than to throw you over my shoulder and get the hell out of here so we can be alone.”
Arousal spiked through my body, warming my skin all over. “I want that too,” I said.
“We’ll get there. But this is important to me.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against the top of my head. His voice went low, and I could feel him swallow a few times. “I want you to have whatever skills I can give you.”
“Okay.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, ignoring the persistent ache in my core. I wanted Owen, but I’d have to restrain myself until I could have him again. “I’ll learn as much as I can, I promise. And I’ll save the tempting until after we’re done.” Trying to concentrate on something athletic while I was turned on was going to be interesting.
“Thank you,” he said as he stepped back. “Now.” He motioned for me to stand in the middle of the mat. “First we’re going to warm up, and then we’ll really get started.”
I still wanted to drag him to my bedroom when we got home, but getting to learn self-defense from this gorgeous man was a pretty good alternative. I smiled as he put his hands on my waist, showing me how to stretch my muscles. Life was becoming good.
Chapter Twenty-One
Owen
“The intel you got in Ireland about Laurent was sufficient,” my supervisor said over the phone. “It’s time to move on this.”
“Give me one week,” I said. I still had a few arrangements to make before we nabbed Laurent.
“One week,” he confirmed. “Local law enforcement are standing by. You need more agents?”
“Not yet.” The last thing I needed was an influx of spooks into Santiago. I had no doubt Laurent had informants working in customs. If I did need backup, it would have to be local. “I’ll keep you posted,” I said. “Do you have a pickup arranged for the wife?”
“You bet your ass I do,” he said. “The wife’s family is well-connected in France, and her uncle’s in the French Parliament. Shit’s going to hit the fan when they find out what Laurent’s been up to, and when that happens, I want them to remember it was us that got her out alive.”
Of course. There always had to be a political angle. “I didn’t kn
ow about the wife’s connections to the French government,” I said. But I should have. Jack was a great help, and he was reliable, but that was the kind of shit that got missed when I couldn't run my own background checks and had to rely on people who weren’t working the case. “And the nanny?” I had to make sure.
“I know she’s your girlfriend. The agent in Paris, Claire, told me the nanny was your girl when I called to verify the information Claire found. Not that she needed to. I wasn’t born yesterday.” He made a huffing noise. “Don’t worry. We aren’t going to leave your girl with these nutjobs.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Don’t fuck this up,” he said, and hung up.
I was going to do everything in my power to avoid doing just that.
Over the next few days, I made sure I had all the pieces in place, which meant I had less time to spend with Kate, and when I did visit her, I made her go over the Jiu-Jitsu lessons. She had a natural grace, and picked up the moves easily, but she still wasn’t aggressive enough. That was our biggest hurdle, but we were going to keep working on it.
When I was with her, I made every effort not to let my stress show. She’d already proven how perceptive she was, so I had to watch myself. But even with the impending deadline of Laurent’s arrest, I enjoyed my time with Kate in a way I’d never expected.
I wanted to close this case and see Laurent in prison. But I was not looking forward to losing my time with Kate.
On a Wednesday night, three weeks after we’d gotten back from Europe, I stopped by to pick Kate up for a date.
If I kept hammering her with self-defense and shooting lessons, she was going to ditch my ass pretty soon. It was time for us to have a real date, so I’d stopped by my apartment to change into something less stuffy than my suit, and I left my athletic clothes there. She was doing so well in the self-defense lessons that we could stand to take a night off. I wasn’t sure how much she’d like the nightlife scene, but I’d seen several bars and clubs that looked like fun.
When I got to the front door of the Laurents’ house, the door stood slightly ajar, which I’d never seen before. The butler was always there.
Fuck. I didn’t have my gun. Silently, I entered the house. It was eerily quiet. Even though it was a mansion, usually there were noises in the background; the baby squealing, the chef banging dishes, the housekeeper rolling the vacuum through the house.
I crept toward through the foyer and beyond, checking each space.
Laurent’s reptilian voice rang out. “Owen. Please join us in the living area.”
How the hell did he know I was here? He must be watching a security feed.
Lined up in a row were the butler, the chef, the housekeeper Amelia, Mateo, and Mrs. Laurent’s bodyguard who had accompanied us on the trip to Europe.
This was no normal meeting with household staff. In his right hand, Laurent held a gun. Each of the staff members stood straight up, staring ahead.
Something was going on, and it wasn’t good. Actually, it was really fucking bad. I was supposed to put an end to Laurent’s crimes in one week, and here we were, seven days before the biggest bust of my life, and the target had his staff lined up like they were facing a firing squad.
Oh God. Where’s Kate?
If I’d had my gun, I’d have shot Laurent right in the head. But I made a point of never carrying it around Laurent. In Chile, most white-collar employees like accountants didn’t carry concealed weapons.
Now Laurent was talking again. He was not a big man, nor was he loud. But his voice was cold, and it echoed through the room. “Owen, I do apologize that you have walked in on our domestic dispute. I thought I told my butler to secure the door, but he has not done so.”
I schooled my face into something that would look like an alarm. It wasn’t hard to do, since I was panicked about where Kate might be. “Is something wrong? Do I need to call the police?” I asked.
“No, this is a private matter pertaining to my household staff,” he said. “I will handle it here.”
“Are your wife and baby okay?” I asked. “Should I take them somewhere else?”
“They are not here,” he said. “I had my wife take my son away from the house so she will not be exposed to such unpleasantness.” His brow wrinkled. “Ah, you are worried for your lovely Kate? Do not worry, she is with my wife.”
I let my shoulders sag, and let him see my visible relief.
“Owen, you are loyal to me, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir, I am.” Dammit. I was so close. I could probably lunge at Laurent, and disarm him. But if one of the employees was involved, or if Laurent had some of his co-conspirators watching this on a live surveillance, then I’d blow my cover.
This close to a sting, I was absolutely not allowed to blow my cover, not even to save a life. It sucked, but it was what I signed up for. Stopping Laurent was going to benefit a lot of people, and it had to be done. I had to let this play out.
“Very good,” he said. “Then stay.” He waved his hand at the group of employees. “At least one of you knows why you are here. Would anyone like to confess?”
The butler and the chef were frozen, but the housekeeper’s eyes were closed, and her mouth was moving. She appeared to be praying. Mateo looked calm, but the other bodyguard was sweating.
No one said a word.
“I will tell you what is going on,” Laurent said. “I found a listening device in my home office. I must commend you, because I regularly sweep all rooms for bugs. This one was quite well disguised. I almost did not catch it.” He sighed dramatically. “And no one but the people in this room have access to my home office.”
“What about the nanny?” The second bodyguard said. “Why is she exempted? She lives here.”
I would fucking kill him if he tried to pin this on Kate. With my bare hands. And I wouldn’t give a flying fuck about blowing my cover.
Laurent turned his cruel eyes toward the man. “Are you suggesting my son’s caregiver would spy on me?”
The man shifted his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. “No. I just meant-”
Laurent didn’t consider Kate a suspect. I unclenched my fists, but I stayed ready. Laurent took a step forward. “John. You are my wife’s bodyguard. So it is extraordinarily disturbing to me that it was you who planted this device in my office.”
John’s face paled. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “I didn’t-”
“Do not speak.” Laurent glanced around the room. “The rest of you may leave. I apologize for the rude interruption to your day. I trust you will not share this incident with anyone.”
Everyone except John nodded. The housekeeper let out a loud sob and grabbed the chef’s arm, but they all walked out of the room.
“Owen, if you can stomach this, I will be able to promote you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said. That’s what an accountant would say. An accountant would stand there, stunned, and not make a fuss.
“John, I knew it was you,” Mr. Laurent said. “I have informants all over this city. I know that you were plotting to blackmail me with the information you hoped to gain from planting the bug. Do you have an explanation?”
I kept my eyes glued to John’s face. His breathing was shallow now, and he’d quit clasping his hands behind his back, but now his fingers curled and uncurled where he was holding them against his legs. I was pretty sure he must have a weapon concealed. His hand was twitching, like he was thinking about grabbing a gun.
Would an accountant notice? Probably not. Kate was safe. The mission was on track. It sucked, but I was going to have to let this unfold.
“You won’t get away with this,” John shouted. His eyes flickered toward me, then toward the doorway. “You think you’re untouchable. Fuck you. You aren’t.”
“I do not presume anything, John. However, I do plan.” Laurent paused and spoke into his watch. “Charles, Matthieu, please join us.”
I didn’t know those names, but they seemed
to mean something to John, because his eyes grew wider. “Fuck, no,” John yelled. “I’m not going with them.”
I moved my feet apart a little, just in case John came after me instead of Laurent.
Just then, a feminine voice rang out. “Amelia? Mr. Laurent? Is everything okay?”
Oh God, no.
Kate.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kate
I’d been reading my book, stretched out on the chaise lounge by the pool, enjoying the sight of the glittering aqua water, when I heard a door slam.
Never before in my life had I spent so much time lounging around and doing nothing. It was pretty darn nice. Mrs. Laurent had invited me to go shopping with her, but I’d wanted to stay home so I could see Owen.
Inside the house, another door slammed.
I looked up toward the house, but didn’t see anything.
Gabriel was out shopping with his mother, and I was off for the night. Mrs. Laurent had offered me a choice. Go shopping with her and Gabriel, or stay by the pool and read. I’d chosen to read, hoping I’d get to see Owen later on.
Having finished The Count of Monte Cristo last week, now I’d moved on to the Spanish translation. Mrs. Laurent had given it to me so I could practice my reading skills. It was slow-going, but it helped that I’d recently read the English version.
I looked up again, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Amelia go running by.
That was odd. Amelia never ran. Wanting to go and check on her, I closed my book and gathered my towel, checking my phone one more time.
I hadn’t heard from Owen today until just a few minutes ago, but that was normal. Since we’d been back from Europe; he seemed far busier at work. Most of the time he called or texted around six p.m., and most nights he showed up so we could eat dinner together.