by KaLyn Cooper
“Yes, ma’am. Your apartment is four doors down from mine.” When he smiled at her, she quickly saw what his girlfriend must see. Caite was a very lucky woman.
Remi raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how big is this embassy? It has apartments?”
Her eyebrows raised. “Yes, we do. I guess when you were here before you never got the tour.”
“No. We never made it beyond this level.” He gave her a knowing grin. “We used to meet you and your friends at the restaurant or bar.”
“Walk with me and I’ll give you a brief tour.” Without even thinking, she began her standard spiel. “The embassy occupies twenty-seven acres which is wholly owned by the United States of America. This is considered U.S. soil. The building is a five-story, modern contemporary exterior. Its red granite exterior is very unique, especially among the white concrete block buildings found throughout Caracas.”
As they approached the stairwell she asked, “Do you mind if we take the stairs? It’s my primary form of exercise these days since it’s too dangerous for me to jog on the streets.”
Remi hit the bar to open the heavy-duty steel door with his left hand and gestured for her to go through first. Her eye was drawn to his naked ring finger. There wasn’t even an indentation where a ring may have set for years. She wasn’t sure why but this pleased her. On the other hand, just because he wasn’t married, didn’t mean that he didn’t have someone special waiting for him back home, or that he might even be engaged. She chastised herself for even wondering about him.
As they trotted down the stairwell, passing the next level, she continued, “The building itself is over ninety-five thousand square feet. This is the level for housing. The ambassador’s apartment faces the valley and, of course, is the largest. There are ten other apartments on this level. After the election in May, the State Department insisted that all department heads move into the embassy.”
“You used to have an apartment in town, didn’t you?” Remi asked.
“Yes. About two blocks away is a small, gated complex of townhouses. Lots of embassy people lived there. All the women I used to hang out with have either transferred to other embassies or been shipped home as nonessential personnel in the past six months.” She smiled as she thought about lying around the Olympic-sized pool sipping cocktails on their day off, the frequent parties, because some country or another was always celebrating, and the close relationships she had developed with other foreign service officers.
She sighed. “Those freedoms and that lifestyle are now gone.” Taking a deep breath, she continued as they reached the next level, where she opened the heavy door. “The lowest level has limited access to the rest of the building because it is open to the public for visas. There are two steel doors that require badges and codes for entry.”
As they passed the doors, she pointed out the various departments. “All members of the Cultural Affairs Office were evacuated as nonessential. As you can imagine, their job is to provide a conduit between the U.S. and Venezuela for history, art, and cultural exchange. There are still two locals manning the office.”
Pointing to the next office, she explained, “General Services is more like the accounting office. They actually left before the election. Bills can be paid from Washington just as easily as they can be paid here.
“Although they call this Foreign Agricultural Services, it’s really the economic development arm.” She grinned over her shoulder at Remi. “Joseph Allen works in that department. He’s the one who tried to get into the meeting.”
Remi chuckled. “I almost shot him.”
Willow stopped and turned to face him. “What? When?”
He quickly told her what happened in the limousine.
Since her door was next, she unlocked it and pulled him in before her giggle burst through. “I’ll bet he about pissed his pants.” She shook her head. “That little weasel. He is always sticking his nose in uninvited. He and former ambassador Vance were always traveling together. I don’t even like to be in the same room with that man.”
She shouldn’t have said that. What the hell was she thinking, being so casual with this man who was virtually a stranger? Yes, they’d had sex, but that was several years ago. He certainly had a different position now and she had no business trying to influence his opinion of her coworkers. As Mr. Dunaway’s bodyguard, Remi was going to have to be around Joseph Allen. “I apologize. I know better than to express my personal opinions. Please do not allow my views to influence your opinions of my coworker.”
Remi touched her shoulder. His hand was so warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about it. I guarantee you I was not happy to find someone sitting inside the limousine, and when he gave me attitude, I was ready to shoot him. I already have a very firm opinion of Mr. Allen and I guarantee you it is not complementary.”
She barely heard his words, but they did penetrate through to her foggy brain. His hand was still on her shoulder. As though it were generating some kind of power, it interrupted clear concise thought.
Finally remembering why she had brought him there, she stepped out of his grasp and circled to the back of her desk.
Centered in the middle, on top of the disarray, lay another inner office envelope.
Urgent. Personal. The words were handwritten over the black ink.
She stared at it.
Her heart began to pound.
She recognized that handwriting. It was exactly the same as the others.
She could barely get enough air into her lungs.
God only knew what this picture was going to be. She had never gotten two in one day before.
“If you need a minute, go ahead. I have time.” Remi’s deep voice made her flinch.
She forced her eyes to meet his. “What?”
He pointed to the envelope. “That looks important. Go ahead and open it. We have time.”
“No.” She snapped out.
She needed to get a grip. She was not going to let this…asshole…continue to frighten her. Forcing in a deep breath, she tried to remember why Remi was there.
Oh, yes. Business card.
It wasn’t hard to ignore the envelope as she opened the second door on the right and found her box of business cards. As she held it out to him, she realized her hand was shaking and her gaze immediately fell to the envelope.
Remi grabbed the back of her hand with one of his and plucked the business card from the box with the other. “I see you have listed a cell phone number. Can I reach you here anytime, day or night?”
Her hand had immediately stopped shaking when he touched her. It was as though his calm demeanor flowed through her as well. “Yes, day or night. I’m on call twenty-four seven.” She couldn’t imagine an instance where he would need to call her at night, but at the moment she couldn’t think clearly about much of anything.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Jolts of electricity flowed through her body as though she’d been struck by lightning.
No one had ever done that to her in her entire life. It was sweet. Romantic. And a tad bit overwhelming. She knew him, and yet she didn’t. What they’d had years before had been fun and completely physical. Did he want to pick up where they had left off?
Did she?
At the moment, though, she felt more comfortable with him than with anyone else in the embassy. Hell. In all Venezuela. She had already let her guard down with him, expressing a personal opinion, as though they were friends.
With her hand still held securely in his, the heat from his kiss radiating up her arm, mixed with the turmoil of what was in the envelope on her desk, she reached for him, desperate for the comfort of his arms.
He pulled her shaking body to his, wrapping strong arms around her. He seemed to immediately know what she needed.
“It’s okay, Willow. I’ve got you.” Remi’s stroked his hand up and down her back reassuringly. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you lately. I can’t believe the State Department didn’t evacuate you as well
.”
It was nice of him to say those things, but he couldn’t really know. She was needed even more, now. Besides, Venezuela was her home. She had nowhere else to go.
Getting a firm grip on her emotions, she took a cleansing breath and let it out slowly before she stepped out of his embrace. “Thank you, Remi, I needed that.”
He ran his hands from her elbows to her shoulders and back down, never losing eye contact. Slowly, he lowered his head until he touched his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet and brief.
“I just had to have a taste of you before I left. I’ll call you tonight.” He turned on his heel and exited her office.
Willow collapsed into her chair.
What the hell am I doing? She stared at the spot on her palm where his lips had been a moment ago. She wasn’t sure what the hell she was doing, but doing it with Remington Steel would be one hell of a ride. She decided right then and there that she needed to ride that roller coaster.
Her office phone buzzed. “Miss Cardenas, the ambassador would like to see you.”
“Please tell him I’m coming, Valentina.” She tossed the unopened envelope into the drawer, grabbed her tablet, and headed back to the stairwell, wondering if Remington Steel would actually call her that night.
Chapter 5
As Remi ascended the stairs, he grinned at his salacious thoughts when he had followed Willow down this exact same staircase.
At one point, he had reached out to touch the soft curls that bounced off her back. He could only imagine how they would tickle his arms as she leaned forward, riding him while he cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples. They hadn’t gotten to that position, or anything beyond missionary, in their brief time together.
She had such a rocking bod, he couldn’t wait to see it naked again. He was surprised at how her body had changed, with more pronounced curves in all the right places. The back side of her was just as great as the front. He had to admit, he was an ass man and hers was perfection. Nicely rounded.
After being sent to South America so many times as a SEAL, he had developed a real appreciation for bottoms. So many women in the USA were into skin and bones, whereas females from the Caribbean all the way to Brazil celebrated their voluptuous curves.
Willow’s slacks hugged her hips and sculpted her well-rounded ass. He’d liked it years ago as she rocked her hips side to side, her short pleated skirt swishing to the fast beat of the Latin music.
What he didn’t like was the terror he had seen in her eyes and the way Willow’s hand had shaken when she’d seen the envelope on her desk. She treated it as though it were a pit viper. Her reaction was more than the fact she didn’t want to open it in front of him.
She looked scared. It had ignited every protective sense in Remi’s body.
“Moving the package to the limousine.” Flynn’s voice came through the communications unit hidden in his ear.
He reached up and tapped his unit, turning the microphone back on. He had left it on from the time his teams separated at the airport until he followed Willow down the stairs. The rest of his team, and the operations center at Guardian, didn’t need to listen into what he had hoped was going to be a private conversation with her. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.”
“Copy that,” Flynn and Gage said at the same time.
As soon as Remi slid into the backseat, the limousine took off. “Mr. Dunaway, after meeting with the ambassador’s guards, we’ve come up with the following plan.” He ran through his idea of sending out guards to determine the situation at each site.
While stopped at a red light, people mobbed the limousine, beating on it, begging for food and water in several different languages. Everyone stopped talking and stared out the windows at the emaciated bodies, the filthy children, and the boarded-up stores.
These people were truly starving. Their economy needed an injection of safe food and water, as well as a long-term plan to restore it to where it was when Remi had been there several years ago, or to an even better life. He looked at the man across from him, knowing Jim Dunaway could give these people what they needed in the long run.
Someone tried to smash one of the front windows with a rock.
“Hold on,” the driver yelled from the front seat. “We’re sitting ducks here.” He blew the horn and stomped on the gas, dodging cars coming from both sides.
“We might need to contact Alex to bring in a team to travel ahead of me to the wells.” Mr. Dunaway leaned over to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch. He held the bottle in offering to the others.
“Thank you, sir, but we’re on duty,” Remi quickly explained.
“We ran into pirates in Western Africa a year ago. We ended up hiring local mercenaries to clean them out, but we can expand the contract with Guardian to include that. You guys were hired to protect me. I’m afraid you have your hands full without sending someone to the rigs.”
“I’ll make the call tonight.” Remi was quickly reassessing the entire situation. He wasn’t sure if Guardian would be available for that kind of an operation, but after seeing the secret armory, he was sure they had enough firepower for it. “I want to get you inside the compound, safe and secure.” He picked up the encrypted satellite phone from his bag and called Jake Jamison. Everything was ready for them, including supper.
“I’m just putting you on notice right now, Remi, but I want to meet with newly elected President Guerra soon as possible.” Mr. Dunaway sipped his scotch. “These negotiations can take weeks and Zon Petrol intends to be the first in the door.”
Remi had been ready for this request. “Do you think it would be possible for President Guerra to meet with us at the American Embassy, or better yet, at our compound?”
“We can ask, citing security reasons.” He threw the last of the amber liquid down his throat. “I imagine he’s going to have plenty of guards of his own.”
“All the better.” More guns pointed outward were always a good idea as far as Remi was concerned.
“Compound in sixty,” Flynn announced from the front seat.
Remi looked out the window to see that the concrete block walls were twelve feet tall with shiny new concertina wire on top. There were no large trees inside or out, nor climbing vines making it easy to breach.
“Mr. Dunaway, have you been here before?” Remi felt remiss in not asking the question previously.
“Yeah, I helped with the initial exploration.” He set the glass back in the cup holder and flipped the cover, hiding the bar. “There are forty-six wells offshore and twenty-nine scattered up a valley.” He stared at Remi. “A few are going to be a son of a bitch to get to. I wouldn’t be surprised if local tribes, and yes, I mean tribes wearing loincloths and carrying spears, have reclaimed the area surrounding the wells. We’re definitely going to need more men. I’ll talk to Alex if you want me to.”
“Thank you, sir, but in our preparation for this operation we had already discussed the possibility. I’ll just need to contact Dex tonight and let him know.” He thought for a moment before he added, “It might make contracting easier, though, if you would contact your company as well.”
Mr. Dunaway chuckled. “They, too, were anticipating this possibility. We’ll make that happen tonight.” As they pulled up to a huge iron gate, the driver flashed his lights in a code.
Nolan Turner and Blake Wallace stepped out to each side of the car with rifles at their shoulders, facing up and down the street. As they pulled through, Remi caught sight of a small group of people running toward the open gate. He heard their yells for help and wished he could do something more for them immediately. His men followed the car back into the compound as the thick concrete slab gates slid together in the middle.
Sweeping his new home for the foreseeable future, Remi was impressed. A small patch of lush green grass surrounded the large one-story block house that looked as though it had recently been painted white. All the windows were set far enough back from the ornate bars that they could be open
ed to enjoy the breeze. As soon as the limousine pulled under the portico, the thick hand-carved wooden doors immediately opened—by Jake and Zeb, dressed in full combat gear. The Special Forces men trotted to the limousine and opened the car door.
Everyone inside let Mr. Dunaway exit first. It was great that he already knew and understood the need for this protocol. Once inside, the tension level decreased exponentially.
“Mr. Dunaway, we have put you in the largest master suite,” Jake Jamison announced. “Your bags are already there.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but we don’t provide butler service. You have to unpack them yourself.” He gave the man a smile before turning to Remi. “Your suite is right next to his. If you follow me, I’ll show you the way. You might want to wash up before supper. The chef says you have about ten minutes and he’s serving.”
“Does anybody know what’s for supper?” Flynn O’Rourke asked as he picked up his duffle bag.
“I need somebody to show me where we eat.” Gage Ramsey picked up his bag and turned to the other four bodyguards. “Since Flynn and I were at the embassy, I’m hoping one of you guys will show me around. I have the night shift tonight.”
“Men, I think I’m safe enough here in the house. Find your rooms and I’ll meet you all in the dining room in ten minutes.” Mr. Dunaway seemed to know where he was going, so Remi let him get a few paces down the hall before he turned to all six of his men.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll escort Mr. Dunaway to supper, then Nolan, if you know your way around, you’ll take over personal protection duty.” Remi continued with assignments. “Jake, Zeb, I want a report on everything you found when you arrived. You can give that to me as you show everyone else around the compound. Gage, as soon as our tour is over, hit the rack. Try to get some shuteye until you’re on duty. If you have any questions, hold them until after Mr. Dunaway is secure for the evening. I expect to see all of you in eight minutes.”
Every man looked at his large black watch. The military watches were nearly identical, made for deep-sea diving and included an altimeter for jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Jake and Zeb’s were slightly different and waterproof only to twenty meters. Blake’s Marine Corps watch looked almost identical to their SEAL watches, while Nolan’s didn’t have half the gadgets and gauges as the others. Each man brought different talents to the group, but they were already coming together as a cohesive team. His men headed down a different hallway, chatting amicably about their living facilities and trying to outdo each other naming the worst place they had ever slept.