Caballo Security Box Set

by Camilla Blake

  And it was that sort of thing he was anticipating doing again as he greeted his team, shaking hands, offering high fives and fist bumps, walking around the room asking about wives and girlfriends, moms and dads, favorite sports teams and movie obsessions. There was actually a smile on his face, a rare sight in my experience. But this was who Brock was, where he was the most comfortable. He was excited to go back into danger.

  That was a little frightening in itself.

  I watched for a few moments longer, almost reluctant to pull Brock away. It seemed I was finding myself doing more and more unpleasant tasks lately, forcing myself to deal with realities that I didn’t want to deal with. But that was part of running a business, wasn’t it?

  “Gentlemen,” I said, ignoring the change in the atmosphere of the room. “I hope you won’t mind if I borrow Mr. Mills while the rest of you continue preparing for your trip.”

  “Of course, sir,” one man said while the others chimed in with respectful nods or affirmative words. Brock frowned, however, all the excitement and easiness going out of him. He became the stiff, quiet, angry man I’d known since our first meeting.

  It was a tense ride in the elevator up to my office. The moment we were alone, not waiting for sliding doors to open, Brock was no longer silent.

  “We are well prepared for this trip, Ox. You don’t need to worry or make any changes to the overall plan. I’ve gone over it a dozen times with Oliver—”

  “I’m aware of your work and I appreciate it.”

  “We know what we’re doing.”

  “I know that, too. You’ve never let me down in the field.”

  “But you’ve moved the departure date up. We weren’t supposed to leave until next week.”

  “I moved the departure date up because the client wants to move everything up a few days. But that had nothing to do with why I asked you here.”

  “Then why am I here? Why aren’t I downstairs with my men, preparing to go?”

  “Because you aren’t going.”

  I waited a moment for that to sink in. Brock turned away, a gust of air slipping from his mouth, a sound almost like I’d punched him in the throat filling the space around him. When he focused on me again, I thought I could see hatred in the one eye that wasn’t hidden behind the curtain of hair that constantly covered his face.

  “You just said you were pleased with my work.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why are you taking me off the team?”

  “It’s not a permanent move. Just this one time I need you here.”

  “Why? Did Akker say something?”

  I frowned, not sure what any of this had to do with Akker. Due to the death of his child’s mother and his desire to take a few weeks off to help her settle in their new home, Akker hadn’t been in the office much this past month. I hadn’t spoken to him in more than ten days.

  “Is there something going on that I need to know about? Are you unfit for an assignment?”

  “Absolutely not!” Brock lifted the hair off his face completely for a moment, staring at me with both of his eyes, the one eye slightly obscured by the simple mask he wore on that half of his face. I’d seen photographs of the damage to his face, most of it confined to the right side, and understood to a certain extent why he chose to wear the custom-made mask. But it still seemed odd to me, even after two years, this Phantom of the Opera thing he had going here.

  “Then would it be all right with you if I explained the assignment I have in mind for you?”

  Brock’s eye—the good one—narrowed. “You’re the boss.”

  Those words—for reasons that went far beyond Brock—set a heavy weight on my shoulders, making me wish I wasn’t the one in charge here. Things had been simpler when my father was alive and I just sat back to criticize everything he said or did. But I’d had to take over, I’d had to expand the business, and now I had to deal with the fallout from all that.

  Anyway…

  “I need you to go to Paris.”

  Brock frowned. “What’s in Paris?”

  “Fashion Week.”

  Brock began to shake his head, refusal burning in every bit of his flesh. “No fucking way!”

  “The thing is, this client could create a hell of a lot of business for us. She has connections all over the world, models and fashion designers and makeup artists. This could be a whole new market for us.”

  Brock continued to shake his head. “Don’t you have someone else you could send? I’m not… I mean, look at me. Am I really who you want to send?”

  “I don’t have anyone else. Akker is on leave, Oliver is in Houston; Max and James are on their own cases. Everyone I trust is busy or out of town.”

  “You have other operatives.”

  “Not that I trust.”

  Brock stopped shaking his head and just stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t take these cases. I’m not a bodyguard.”

  “Just once. I need you to take this one case. I will never ask anything like this of you again.”

  Brock turned away, crossed his arms as he thought it through.

  “She’s not being stalked or something is she?”

  “Someone placed a bloody pig’s head in her refrigerator.”

  That got his attention. As long as there might actually be danger involved, I supposed…

  “I don’t like it. I’d much rather be in the Philippines with my men.”

  “I understand.”

  “But you gave me a job when no one else would.” He sighed. “Just once?”

  “Just once. And it should only take a week or so. You might be able to join your team when it’s done.”

  That seemed to satisfy and persuade him. Either that or the sight of the slender brunette who came through the door a moment later.

  A week in Paris with a beautiful woman. I could think of worse ways for a man to spend his time.

  Chapter 4

  Luna

  The plane was in the air for hours, long enough that I managed to get a few Zs in before opening my laptop. It was more than three hours later when I closed the lid to my computer and sat back, sighing as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So many preparations had to be made, so many meetings and dinner parties and fashion shows to work into everyone’s schedules. I had appointments beginning almost the moment we landed in Paris, starting with several fashion designers who’d expressed interest in using pieces from my new collection on their models during the shows. That was an honor, one that I fully intended to live up to.

  If I could just get there in one piece, that was.

  I glanced over at the man who sat silently in a club chair across from me. He’d barely spoken two words from the moment we met. Normally, I would be thrilled at having a silent man to follow me around, but this time I would have liked a few more words. After finding that pig’s head in my fridge, I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as my grandmother used to say. Every noise, every new person made me want to run for cover. If this man, this very expensive bodyguard, could offer me a few words of comfort, I would be appreciative. But he seemed more interested in staring at his own hands than anything else.

  And what was with the long hair and the funky plastic mask?

  Ox Winn had a reputation in San Antonio. Everyone who was anyone knew he ran a security firm that kept secrets and went to lengths to protect its clients. I didn’t even need to ask who to hire when my need for security came up. But I’d expected a man like Ox to join me on this trip, a charming, good-looking man with a certain knowledge of the social circles we’d be walking in this week. Ox assured me this guy fit the bill, but I wasn’t as confident.

  No offense to him, but the weird mask hid a big portion of his face. What I could see was nice to look at, but who could tell with the right side almost completely gone? His hair was nice, long and wavy, clean and well-kept, but the way he wore it in front of his face like a pile of curtains, or another mask, was a little juvenile.
If you could take away everything from the neck up, he was pretty hot. He had an athletic build that was on the lean side, masculine with all the right angles, the right bulk in all the right places. Broad shoulders. And he was tall, intensely tall. He was the kind of man I might seek out at a party, especially if he filled out a suit the way he filled out the jeans and button-down he was currently wearing—I was informed he’d come straight from a personal day, explaining the two-hour delay while he went home to pack. The way that shirt hung from his shoulders reminded me of Brad Pitt back when Brad Pitt was relevant—like Fight Club Brad Pitt.

  The gloves threw me off, too. They were thin, expensive Italian leather. But still odd.

  “We’ll head to the hotel as soon as we land,” I said, trying to engage in some sort of back and forth. “I’m meeting with a couple of business associates in the hotel bar, so I’ll need you to wait for me before we go upstairs.”

  He glanced at me—at least I think he did, it was hard to tell with that hair—but he didn’t nod, didn’t make any comment.

  “Do you need to speak with the hotel security or something?”

  “No,” he said, that one word sharp and clear.

  “I assume you’ll want to coordinate with the local security. Ox said something about contacting the hotel as well as security coordinators at the various venues we’ll be visiting.”

  He didn’t say a word, didn’t nod. He just continued to look at me.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  His head dropped, and he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, his thumb moving gracefully across the screen as he engaged in some sort of social media perusal.

  So much for conversation.

  Angela, sitting further up in the cabin, glanced back at me, something of a smug look on her face. She was conversing with the chosen few artists we’d brought along to handle any emergency repairs that might need to be done to the demo pieces. As I watched, she leaned into one of the women and whispered something, the two of them glanced back at me, then they all laughed like whatever she had said was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  “If you have time to joke around, you must have finished the sketches I asked you to have ready before we land.”

  The laughter immediately stopped, dark expressions flashing in my direction.

  They needed to be constantly reminded of who the boss was. It wasn’t like I enjoyed treating them like children, but if I was going to pay them to work for me, I wanted them to work, not sit around and gossip like a bunch of children in a playground. Was that really so much to ask?

  Needless to say, they were quiet the rest of the flight.

  The moment we landed, Brock Mills was at my side, guiding me down the stairs as we crossed the tarmac to the SUV waiting there for us. Brock and I were in one SUV while my team was in a second. We made our way through the streets of Paris, dodging in and out of afternoon traffic. It was morning back in San Antonio, but late afternoon here in Paris. I worked on my presentation as we drove, making last-minute changes to the speech I was planning to make the moment we arrived at the hotel, nerves controlled only by the busy work of switching one adjective for another. I’d made these presentations dozens of times before—dozens of times before I sold my first necklace, my first bracelet—but the longer I was in this business, the more important these presentations became.

  Brock stared out the window, gazing up at the buildings as we passed them. I glanced at him, surprised by the wonder on the one side of his face I could clearly see.

  “Have you never been to Paris?”

  He seemed almost ashamed to have been caught in such an innocent display of amazement. “No, ma’am,” he said, moving slightly to face forward rather than toward the window.

  “I’ll arrange a tour later in the week.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Sure, it is. Everyone should experience Paris at least once in their lives.”

  He didn’t respond to that, but I didn’t require a response.

  The hotel was an architectural wonder all on its own. Even I stared out the window in awe as we pulled up under the portico, fascinated by the stone walls, the marble statues, and the gorgeously costumed doormen. I’d been here before, but it still struck some chord deep inside of me every time I came back. It was almost as though this was a dream and I was still tucked into my bed back in San Antonio, living my deepest desires the only way I could.

  I pinched myself under the sleeve of my blouse, very discreetly, just to make sure I was awake.

  “Ms. Walsh,” the doorman said politely, “we’ve been expecting you.”

  I lowered my head slightly, taking his hand as I stepped out of the car. Brock followed close behind, his body close to mine even if he didn’t touch me. We strode into the hotel, a magnificent sight if I did say so myself. His height next to my sophistication… perfection! And the hotel lobby wasn’t too bad, either.

  The hotel manager stepped forward to greet us. “Ms. Walsh, your party is waiting in the bar. We’ve expedited your registration and your things will be taken immediately up to your suite.” He slipped an envelope containing the key cards into my hand. “I hope you enjoy your stay. If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you.”

  I proceeded on, leaving Angela to deal with whatever else was required to get us settled in the hotel. My thoughts at that moment were only on the meeting awaiting me.

  “You’ll wait here,” I said to Brock as we stepped over the threshold into the bar.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I glanced up at him, a part of me wishing he would argue. However, he simply stepped aside and leaned against the archway that separated the bar from the hotel lobby. He made something of a spectacle. Not in a bad way, of course, but his long limbs all casually draped over that little bit of space was a sight I wouldn’t soon forget. I was sure there were other women in the room who would be impressed with it as well.

  I recognized my intended drink dates the moment I pulled my eyes—and my thoughts—from Brock Mills. Elizabeth Clauson, the hottest new thing to hit Fashion Week, was sitting at a table with two other designers—John Farris and Montana Day. John stood when he caught sight of me, smiling broadly as he pulled me close for a polite embrace.

  “Lovely to see you, Luna,” John announced loud enough for everyone in the place to hear. “I was so happy to see several of your pieces at the Oscars back in the spring.”

  I smiled politely, a little unnerved by his invidious greeting. “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat, Luna,” Elizabeth said, moving her bag off the chair beside her. “How have you been?”

  “Busy.” I smiled. “But we’ve all been busy these last few months, haven’t we?”

  “You’re telling me!” Montana laughed as she lifted her glass. “Thank God it’s all done, for better or for worse.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” John agreed, sloshing his own drink a little in a display suggesting this wasn’t his first.

  “Who’s the hunk?” Elizabeth asked, leaning close to me and indicating the archway. I glanced back at Brock, again struck by how masculine he was leaning there that way. There was something about the way his jeans fit over his casually crossed legs that made parts of me that had been hibernating far too long come wide awake.

  “A friend,” I said, a part of me reluctant to admit the crisis I’d found myself in these past few days. “He’s never been to Paris, so I thought I’d be the one to show it to him.”

  “How sweet,” Montana said. “Wish I had a friend who looked like him to show around the city of romance!”

  I kind of liked the envy I could clearly hear in her voice. I glanced at Brock one more time, letting my eyes linger on the bulge that rose just below his belt. It had been a long time since I’d been close to a man who looked like him. Hell, it’d been a long time since I’d been with any man! Who had time to date and run a business all at the same time? Definitely not
me.

  “How about a drink, Luna?” Elizabeth suggested, waving over a waitress. I ordered a chilled moscato, and sipped it for a moment as we indulged in more of the required small talk. Then I picked up the case I’d set between my feet when I sat, glancing around the table at the eagerness in their eyes.

  “These are just demos. All handmade, all constructed of the finest materials available.” I entered the code into the case and bit my bottom lip at the sound of the click of the locks releasing. “You’re the first outside of my office to see these, so be gentle.”

  I turned the case and lifted the lid, watching their faces as they set their eyes on my fall collection for the first time. There was a mixture of surprise, joy, and excitement—exactly what I’d been hoping for. Elizabeth picked up a heavy necklace with a sizeable diamond, a sigh escaping her lips.

  “It’s like you live inside my mind and could see exactly what it was I needed!”

  John practically giggled as he held up a pair of earrings that dangled perfectly from his fingers. “Amazing!”

  I launched into my speech, taking advantage of this moment of excitement.

  “Each piece came directly from my vision of—”

  “Damn, girl!” Montana laughed. “You don’t have to give us your sales pitch! I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect to go along with my designs. And I’m sure they couldn’t, either!” She held up a slim piece with a garnet on a pendant that dangled from a lovely silver chain. She sighed, shaking the necklace slightly. “How did you know my star design needed some sort of subtle splash of color? It’s like… it’s just perfect!”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I want most of these. Send someone to my room with an inventory list and I’ll let you know when and where.”

  “Us too,” John announced.

  “Of course.”

  My heart was pounding. Were they really agreeing to use my entire collection in their shows? Elizabeth was scheduled to display her designs in a show tomorrow morning, the first of dozens of shows that would take place this week. That meant that every other designer, every reporter, every person who mattered would see my designs first thing in the morning! I couldn’t imagine a better way to start Fashion Week!