Caballo Security Box Set

by Camilla Blake

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, the puzzled look on his face almost genuine. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I slapped him, unable to contain the fury that was burning just under the surface. The room fell completely silent with the sound of that slap reverberating throughout the lobby, people staring like we were putting on some sort of play or something. I was aware of the stares, even considered the fact that I might be making a publicity fiasco for myself, but in the heat of the moment, I didn’t really care.

  “You told me that you’d follow me, that we’d make a life out in Los Angeles. Do you remember that? You said you’d follow me anywhere I wanted to go. And then you vanished, refused to answer the phone, refused to respond to emails. I even called the damn school—”

  “Ma’am,” he said again, touching the side of his face where a red mark in the shape of my hand was making itself known, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about!”

  “I know who she is,” his redheaded companion, who was still standing beside him, watching the whole thing with a measure of amusement in her eyes, said. “At least I think I do.”

  I realized I still had my sunglasses on. I lifted them off, shaking out my hair again. “Recognize me now, darlin’?”

  When he started to shake his head, I cried out, unable to contain my outrage. Then I lifted my hand again, but he grabbed my wrists in a quick, almost graceful movement, securing my arms behind my back in a tight grip as he pulled me hard against his chest.

  “I’ll let you hit me once. But I won’t stand for a second blow for something I didn’t do.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Brock. We both know exactly what I’m talking about!”

  I was suddenly exhausted, tears blurring my vision so that I almost missed the comprehension that brought something like sympathy, maybe even a little sadness, to his expression.

  “Brock?” his companion asked. “Does she mean—”

  “Give us a minute, will you, Cheryl?”

  He didn’t even look to see if the redhead listened to his request. His eyes never left my face. It was then that I realized there was something a little off about the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw. He looked like Brock, but his eyes were more gold than green, more tilted toward the brown side of the hazel spectrum. And his jaw was slightly wider than I remembered it being.

  “I’m not Brock,” he said, almost apologetically. “Brock’s currently in the Middle East, running an operation for our company.”

  I shook my head. “But you look—”

  “I’m his twin brother. Akker.”

  I shook my head again. “That’s not possible. He would have told me if he had a twin.”

  This man tilted his head briefly, offering a sort of shrug. “We had a falling-out in high school. We stopped talking for nearly seven years. I’m not surprised he wouldn’t have mentioned me.” He studied my face for a long moment. “Did you say eight years ago? Was that when you knew him?”

  I nodded, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes.

  “He was in law school then.”

  “In his fourth semester.”

  Again, that sadness flickered through this man’s eyes. He studied my face for a long moment, then he gently released me, stepping back. “I’m sorry for the confusion, ma’am,” he said, so polite that it was almost painful. “I can give him your contact information if you’d like to hear from him.”

  I was suddenly aware of all the attention we were attracting from around the room. I blushed, wiping my tears away with my forearm. “That won’t be necessary,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s happened before.”

  “I can imagine.”

  I nodded, turning away, determined to storm out of the building. I was so mortified by my actions that I couldn’t even recall why I’d come all the way here in the first place. I was nearly to the door when a man suddenly moved into my path. It was a different man this time, a slightly taller man with dark hair that was thick and full across the top, but again shaved along the sides. He was slender but masculine, and handsome to the point of being almost tragic.

  “Ms. Rae? I’m Oxley Winn.”

  I almost brushed him off, almost skirted around him and out the door, when his name touched a chord in my overwrought brain.

  “Mr. Winn,” I sighed, wiping at my tears again. “I apologize, but I’m not sure I’m up to our meeting just now.”

  He lowered his head slightly. “I caught the tail end of your… conversation with Mr. Mills. I apologize for anything one of my operatives might have done or said to upset you.”

  I shook my head. “No, I just… I thought he was someone else.”

  “I understand. But you seem a little shaken. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come up to my office, if only to gather yourself?”

  I glanced around the room, noting again the number of eyes that were on us. I nodded, wanting nothing more than to get out of this place and away from these prying eyes.

  “If you’ll follow me.”

  He gestured for me to walk in front of him, his hand brushing my back as he did. My knees were a little unsteady, and I stumbled a bit. He offered me his elbow, and I couldn’t resist but to take it. He led the way to the private elevator at the back of the room, using a special access card to activate the doors. The ride upstairs was quick and painless, no stops between the lobby and the executive floor. In fact, we didn’t see anyone from the moment we entered the elevator to the moment we stepped into his office.

  “Allow me to get you something to drink.”

  He crossed to the small bar against the far wall, leaving me to choose between the lovely leather furniture situated close to the side door through which we’d entered: a couch, a loveseat, and several high-backed loungers. I settled on the couch, allowing myself to actually sit back and sink into the soft back of the massive piece of furniture. Lost in my own embarrassment as I was, the side of me that was always taking note of the people and items around me was taking inventory of the office. This lovely sitting area flowed into an open space that was the walking area between the main double doors that opened into the office and the massive oak desk he had placed in front of equally massive windows that looked down on the city center where the building stood. The vista was quite impressive, the day clear enough to give a view of distant hills toward the Austin area and the urban sprawl that spread out in the miles closer in. The other side of the room held a round conference table and the bar, a door slightly ajar in that wall that appeared to lead into a private bathroom.

  It was an impressive office, almost as impressive as some I’d sat in back home in Los Angeles.

  Oxley Winn crossed the room with two drinks in hand, a stiff shot of something dark for me, a glass of ice water with a lime for him. I accepted the drink and tossed it back in a single gulp—whiskey—then set the glass on the edge of a low table.

  “I can’t believe I made such a fool of myself! It’ll be all over the tabloid websites by dinner!”

  “No. No one in my employ would do anything like that.”

  “But there were so many people in the lobby!”

  “And all of them associated with my company. Your secrets are safe with us, Ms. Rae.”

  I glanced at him, wanting to believe him, but finding it difficult. I couldn’t burp in public without the tabloids printing it within hours back in Los Angeles. How could I believe that a meltdown that intense would be kept private?

  “You must be curious as to what it was all about.”

  “I think your business is yours until you want to share it.”

  I smiled, suddenly remembering the polite, Bible-thumping graces of the south. I nodded, leaning forward to press my head between my knees for a moment, trying desperately to catch my breath and stop feeling as though I’d just ripped this incredibly huge mask right off my face, leaving myself bloody and battered.

  �
�It wasn’t that bad. I’m sure Akker understands.”

  “Akker. What a name!”

  “I believe it is a family name.”

  I sat up again, glancing at Mr. Winn. “You are polite to a fault. Did you know that?”

  “I’ve been told,” he said, a glint of amusement coming into his eye.

  I sighed heavily, brushing at the cheap linen of my borrowed maid’s skirt. “I guess I should tell you why I came. Since I’m here and everything.”

  “That would be fine, if you feel up to it.”

  I looked down at myself, at the periwinkle-blue uniform that hung awkwardly from my frame. Damn thing!

  “I had to sneak out of the hotel. The fact that I was able to do it with the security my manager hired seems to underscore how oblivious the idiots are.” I brushed my hair back behind my ear. “I’m in town for a nostalgic photo shoot. I have this movie coming out, and the producers want pictures of me in my hometown to use as part of the publicity blitz that’s about to begin. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about security while traveling because most of the places I’ll be—the hotel, large venues, restaurants—have their own security.”

  “But…”

  “But I’ve been getting new threats that are different from anything I’ve gotten before. They come to my personal cell phone and my home—things no one should be able to access but people close to me. That makes me nervous, but my manager isn’t taking it seriously.”

  “What kind of threats?”

  I tugged my cell phone out of my clutch, pulling up the text messages before handing it to him. I watched as he read through them. I could almost read them aloud without even looking, having read them so many times that I practically had them all memorized.

  “The one I particularly like says, The red blouse you wore today was nice, but I prefer the green nightgown you have on at the moment. Or the one that says, You walked past me today. I could have sliced your throat with my knife, you were so close. But I’d rather do it when we’re alone together.”

  Mr. Winn looked up at me, a new sympathy in his eyes. “How accurate are these? Do you have a green nightgown?”

  I blushed. “I did. When I received that text, I was wearing one. I immediately took it off and threw it in the trash.”

  He nodded, his eyes dropping again to the phone as he continued to scroll through the messages. “This has been going on for how long?”

  “A month.”

  “Have you contacted the police? Has your current security team been made aware?”

  “I went to my manager, and he said he filed a report with the cops.” I shrugged. “I don’t know how true that is. And I told Lloyd and Harry myself what was happening, but the two of them are so clueless, I’m not sure they even know what the word stalker means.”

  “I see your problem.”

  “There’s more to it. Unfortunately.” I waited until he was done reading the messages and had handed the phone back to me. “My contract with my manager comes up in less than three weeks. Until that time, I need to make nice with him. I don’t want him to know that I’m replacing him.”

  “What does that have to do with this?”

  “He won’t like me hiring security he didn’t vet himself.”

  Mr. Winn nodded. “I see. You’d like us to handle this confidentially.”

  “I’d like you to be discreet in your protection, but I want a whole team, not just one or two guys hanging around my hotel room, ringing up a high room-service bill.”

  “My guys are professional, Ms. Rae.”

  “Eva. Please.”

  “Eva. My men can also be discreet. But we’ll need your entire itinerary for this trip so that we can plan ahead, have people at each venue waiting for you.”

  “I’d also like someone with me whenever I’m outside the hotel.”

  “That might raise questions.”

  I nodded, the idea that was forming in my head almost as frightening as it was brilliant. The last thing I wanted was to take another walk down memory lane, especially after the embarrassing scene I’d created downstairs just a few minutes ago. But could this idea be any more perfect? Could it fit the situation any better?

  “I was wondering if your agent—or whatever you call them—Akker Mills, might be available?”

  “Akker?”

  “The thing is, I knew his brother back in the day. So, if he were to be the one hanging out with me at all these events—like this charity thing going on tonight at the art museum—people wouldn’t really question it. They’d think I was just reconnecting with an old friend.”

  “Would that be okay for you?”

  I rolled my shoulders. “I’d rather hang out with a total stranger who thinks I’m a complete fool than become the victim of some madman.”

  “Well, then, I’ll talk to him.”

  His understanding was a little too understanding. A part of me had hoped he would argue or find a reason why Akker couldn’t do it. Imagine spending the next ten days in the company of a man who looked just like Brock! I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I knew Danny wouldn’t question it, not once I spun the lie that Akker and I had become friends all those years ago when I was with Brock.

  How could Brock have not told me he had a twin? You’d think that would be something important to share with the woman you supposedly loved. Maybe our relationship wasn’t what I’d always thought it was. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Brock to walk away.

  “This thing at the art museum… were you talking about the fundraiser?”

  I looked up. “Yes. It’s for the community outreach program, to fund an after-school art program for disadvantaged children.”

  Mr. Winn nodded, smiling a little as he did. “I’ll be there tonight. Caballo is donating some money to the program.”

  “Fantastic! I was thrilled when the head of the program reached out to me. I was thrilled to add it into my schedule while I was here. In fact, we flew in two days earlier to attend the party tonight.”

  “It’s a worthwhile program.”

  I nodded. “I can’t tell you what something like this would have meant to me when I was a kid, growing up in this city. Might have kept me out of trouble a few times.”

  “I doubt that. You seem like the kind of person who was a perfect angel as a child.”

  “Oh, not me. I gave my parents a run for their money. But I came around eventually.” I brushed a hand over my borrowed skirt. “But all that sneaking out taught me a few things that certainly come in handy now.”

  He laughed. “I can see that. I hope the maid you borrowed those from isn’t shivering in some closet somewhere.”

  “No. She’s eating bonbons and sitting on my couch.” I stood, tugging at the skirt. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back. I’ve already been gone much longer than I intended.”

  “I’ll have a team at your hotel within the hour.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Winn.”

  “Please, call me Ox. Everyone calls me Ox.”

  “Ox.” I smiled, looking him over as I did. The nickname didn’t really seem to fit him—he wasn’t a small man, but he wasn’t ox-like, either—though there was something about his personality that made it work. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “That’s my line.” He took my hand and made a chivalrous move over it that was very outdated, making it even more touching: he bowed his head and brushed his lips against my fingertips. “Will you be all right getting back to the hotel alone?”

  “I will.”

  He walked me back to the private elevator, using his private passkey to allow me access. As the doors began to slide closed, I lifted a hand, catching the contemplative look on his face. He was definitely a good-looking man, this Ox Winn. But he also seemed troubled. I found myself hoping he had a good woman in his corner to help him with those troubles.

  Or maybe that was the source of his trouble. Sometimes love was more work than it was worth.

  Chapter 2

  Akker

/>   I tugged at the tie, trying a third time to get it to go the way it was designed to go. The phone rang, and I let it go to voicemail, aware of who it probably was and not really interested in talking to her. Maybe if I ignored her long enough, she would get the message.

  I was floored when Ox called me to his office to inform me that Eva Rae wanted me on her case. I hadn’t realized who she was—it wasn’t like I had all this time on my hands to go to the movies or anything—but when it was all said and done, Travis, the security guard on reception, told me who she was. He gushed like she was the sweetest thing since Marilyn Monroe to grace the big screen, talking about her last movie like it was a masterpiece beyond all masterpieces. I looked her up on IMDb when I got back to my office. She’d made three or four movies in the past two years. Before that, she was a model.

  I could understand Travis’s excitement when I looked up a couple of her professional pics. Woman had a way with the camera. And the way she looked in a bikini…!

  I couldn’t believe Brock had ever been involved with someone like her and had never bothered to tell me. Then again, Brock didn’t talk a lot about the past, and I couldn’t really blame him.

  Finally getting the tie right, I stepped back and brushed my fingers through the stiff strands of hair sticking out of the top of my head. It wasn’t quite a military buzz cut, but it was close enough to make me feel neat and ordered. The tux felt almost like a uniform. I tugged at the jacket, happy with the way it hung over my hips. I told Brock it paid to own a tux rather than rent one every time you needed it. He didn’t believe me, but a rented tux would never look quite this good!

  The phone rang again as I stepped out the door. I hesitated only a heartbeat. She’d give up eventually.

  Discretion was the word for this case, apparently. I wasn’t to imply to anyone that I was with Ms. Rae on a professional basis. This was about her past relationship with Brock, at least that’s what I was supposed to allow people to think. But that only made the whole thing more complicated, not just because I’d not known her when she was with my brother, but also the fact that it was clear she and Brock didn’t have a friendly breakup. The girl had a strong right hook! How uncomfortable was it going to be for her to look at me with a memory like that?