by KaLyn Cooper
“Did you walk to the ambassador’s office and check?” Rocco suggested.
“No. I went back to my desk to finish my work.” She glanced at the sandwich. “I took one more bite, but it tasted weird, like it had gone bad. I tossed it in the garbage.”
“How long before you got sick?” Rocco was asking all the questions that Remi wanted answers to, so he stayed silent. This was his friend’s domain.
“Not long. About half an hour later I started sweating through every pore in my body. I was instantly drenched.” She looked away from the box. “My stomach started to flip flop, so I ran back to my room. Good thing, too, because then I was throwing up. I thought I had food poisoning.” She shook her head. “I’ve never been that sick my life. I knew we were scheduled to go to the rig today, and I had to be there, so I called Dr. Willoughby.”
She held Rocco’s gaze. “You know I have the keys to the medical center and the prescription cabinet.”
Rocco nodded, but said nothing.
“The Doc told me what I needed to take and how much of it.” She shrugged. “I was feeling a thousand times better by this morning.”
She stepped from Remi’s arms and he watched her physically pull herself together. She tucked in her pretty blouse and smoothed down her slacks. “Rocco, I apologize for my outburst.” She tilted her head toward the box on her desk. “This latest incident shocked me.”
“There have been more?” Rocco narrowed his eyes at Willow. Remi was going to stay out of it, unless she didn’t tell them about the envelope he’d seen there the other day.
Her glance to the side drawers on the desk gave her away. She nodded and sighed. Stepping behind Remi, as though she wanted to put him between her and the dead rat, she opened the bottom drawer. She pulled out several interoffice envelopes and handed them to Rocco. As he opened the first one and examined the picture, he scowled before handing it to Remi.
“Is this the first one or the most recent?” Remi asked, fighting his jaw that wanted to clench. She stepped closer, her face almost touching his bicep, as she looked at the photograph.
“That one came yesterday morning.” If she hadn’t been so close, Remi never would’ve felt the small shudder that ran through her body. “My…my face is usually scribbled out. This is the only one where they’ve drawn a target.” He heard her swallow. He couldn’t help himself. He slid his arm over her shoulder and gave her a slight squeeze.
Rocco had quickly opened all the packets and stacked the photographs one on top of another. “Did you tell Lieutenant Canaday about this?” He shook the fistful of pictures. “Or any of the other Marine Corps guards?”
Willow looked down and away from Rocco’s glare then shook her head. “No.” She sucked in a quick breath and lifted her head defiantly to look at the SEAL glowering at her. “I was handling this.”
“By hiding them in a desk drawer?” Rocco’s voice rose accusingly.
Willow winced and moved a fraction of an inch closer to Remi. He was sure she hadn’t realized what she’d done, but he wanted to beat his chest knowing that she was looking to him for protection. He would shield her from everything and everyone, even his friend.
Rocco closed his eyes for a fraction of a minute as he drew in a long steadying breath. “Miss Cardenas, Willow, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” he said in a gentle calming tone. “I had hoped that we were developing the kind of friendship that you would’ve felt comfortable enough to bring this to me. Although my job is personal protection for Ambassador Snyder, I would’ve helped you with this. So would any of my men. But you should have brought this matter to Lieutenant Canaday. He and his Marines are responsible for the security of this entire embassy. Is there some reason you didn’t show him these pictures when you first received them?”
“Ever since I turned the Marine lieutenant down for a date, for about the tenth time, we give each other a wide berth.” She let out a long sigh. “I was afraid he’d take it the wrong way, that I was the helpless damsel in distress who needed the big bad Marine to find the coward who had been sending me those pictures.”
Remi was both proud and upset with Willow at the same time. Something deep inside of him found satisfaction in the fact that she had turned down the lieutenant in charge of the Marine guard. At the same time though, he was pissed that she wasn’t able to take this proof of a personal threat to the man who was supposed to handle such problems. Remi liked the fact that she thought of her attacker as a coward. In his book, she had it right.
The stench of the rat slapped his senses. This time, the fucker took it too far. He had almost carried out his death threat from the last photograph with the target over her face. Remi couldn’t look at it any longer and handed the picture back to Rocco.
“I’m going to give these, and that,” Rocco pointed to the dead rat, half eaten sandwich, and computer printed note, “to Lieutenant Canaday. It looks to me as though the threat is against you, personally. If there had been any serious or immediate threats against the ambassador, I would’ve been notified.”
Remi’s gaze followed Rocco’s as they looked in all four corners of the room and at the ceiling.
“You don’t have security cameras in here,” Rocco noted.
“No. Only the public areas are monitored. Oftentimes, classified information is passed in our offices, so the State Department won’t allow surveillance.” She grinned. “Most foreign service officers have a higher clearance than the Marines who protect us.”
“Understood.” Rocco nodded once. “But without surveillance we can’t identify who is harassing you.”
“Willow, do you have any idea who is behind all of this?” Remi swept his hand toward the box and the photographs.
Her lips drew in to a straight line. “If I’d figured out who was sending these photographs, and now that,” she pointed at the box on the desk, “I would have already turned them in to Lieutenant Canaday. Trust me, for something this serious, I would have overcome my personal feelings toward the Marine and I’d let him handle the coward.” She shook her head. “I just hadn’t figured it out yet.”
Remi was thinking ten steps ahead. “Willow isn’t safe here.” He tilted his head toward the box on her desk. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s attempted murder.”
“I agree. Go pack,” Rocco ordered. “You’re leaving for the United States as soon as I can get you on an airplane.”
Willow fisted her hands and planted them on her hips. “I’m not leaving. Ambassador Snyder needs me. The United States of America needs me here. No one else can do my job.”
“You can’t do your job if you’re dead,” Rocco snapped back.
Willow rocked into his side as though she’d been slapped.
“It’s not safe for you here. You need to go home, Willow,” Remi encouraged.
“This is my home,” she insisted.
“Your file indicates your home of record as Washington, D.C.. We’re expecting a shipment this afternoon.” Getting her out of the country as soon as possible was the best solution as far as Remi was concerned. “We can get you as far as Miami and I’m sure the State Department can fly you back to D.C.. You can be home before midnight.”
She stepped away from him and glared. “Why the hell would I want to go to D.C.? There’s nothing for me there and hasn’t been for nearly a decade. It might be my home of record, but it’s not my home. Venezuela is my home.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “You’ve seen my files?”
“Yes,” he quickly admitted. “We have files on everybody. I don’t take an assignment without knowing what I’m walking into and as much about everybody that I may meet.”
“Are we in my files?” She cocked her head defiantly.
He grinned. “Yes, we are.” His name, and a few others, had been mentioned in the extensive CIA files that he had requested. Of more interest to him, was all contact that had taken place between embassy foreign service officers and the Maduro administration. There were so many possibilities of who blew the whi
stle on former ambassador Vance it wasn’t a table puzzle, but the 3D version. Everybody and everything were interconnected. It was mind-boggling. “But the information in those files isn’t of concern right now. Your safety is.”
He stared at her pretty face and watched her jaw drop.
“They know about us?” She asked just above a whisper.
He nodded.
“And you know about…”
He nodded again and shrugged. “I don’t give one shit about your other lovers. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll give you a list of names of mine.” He thought about that for half a second and decided that would be a stupid idea. Some he could only give the first name, and he wasn’t sure they'd given him their real names. He cut off that line of thought.
“But as a reminder, Willow, we’re not dating. We never really did.” No. That was a stupid direction to go, Remi chastised himself. “Your safety is the only thing we’re concerned about at the moment.” He looked at Rocco for confirmation.
His friend nodded in agreement. “Willow, I need you to pack a bag now. We’ll have the rest of your personal items shipped to you wherever you want, but you need to leave Venezuela today.” He pointed to the box on the desk. “Next time, they might succeed.”
A whimper escaped her closed mouth. “You don’t understand.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” She blinked several times, but her eyes remained bright. “I can request to transfer to another embassy. I’ve been thinking about going to China. My Mandarin is quite good. Did you know that nearly half a million Chinese people live in Venezuela?”
With every word she regained composure. “It will take several weeks to process my transfer, if there’s even a position available.” She stood straighter and squared her shoulders. “In the meantime, Ambassador Snyder needs me. I’ll check with my former landlord and see if I can move back into my townhouse. Maybe the ambassador will even allow me to work from there.”
Suddenly Remi had the perfect answer. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I’m taking you to the Zon Petrol compound. It’s the safest place for you in all of Caracas. There are plenty of extra mini apartments, we have high-speed Internet, and encrypted lines. I’m sure we can set you up with an office somewhere there.”
The fact that she would only be feet away from him every night was a bonus.
Chapter 8
Alone in the backseat of the limousine, Willow snuggled into Remi’s chest as they rode through the streets of Caracas toward the Zon Petrol compound.
“That went better than I expected.” She was enjoying listening to his steady heartbeat, so she didn’t bother to lift her head. “I’m so thankful Mr. Dunaway agreed to let me stay at his compound.”
“Given the way Rocco presented the circumstances, there wasn’t a man in that room who thought you were safe at the embassy.” Remi’s chuckle rumbled in her ear. “I thought Lieutenant Canaday was going to shit himself when you told the ambassador you didn’t feel comfortable bringing the evidence to embassy security.”
“He did apologize,” she pointed out. “In all fairness, that was me not wanting to deal with him.” She giggled. “Besides, he’s the one who now has to deal with the dead rat and a stinky egg salad.”
She wanted to moan in contentment when Remi stroked his hand down her back. “I don’t want you to expect much from the investigation. I’m sure Lieutenant Canaday is going to do everything by the book, but since the threat was not directed toward the ambassador, I doubt the State Department is going to put much time or effort into finding your stalker.”
“I know. And as the public information officer, I would just file the data away. I wouldn’t even bother writing a press release about it.” She hated that somebody was going to get away with the things he’d done, the way he’d tormented her.
When the limousine stopped in front of the solid gates, Willow sat up. She’d heard about places like this located all over the city, usually owned and run by major international corporations or the extremely wealthy. Most of the latter had left Venezuela soon after Mendoza took over.
The sprawling one-story building surrounded by twelve-foot walls made her instantly relax. No one was watching her—judging her clothes, her every action, and each spoken word. At that moment, she was no longer the Public Diplomacy Officer representing the United States of America.
When she stepped out of the back of the limousine, she was Willow Cardenas, an American woman, in a compound owned by an American company. And she was safe.
It was as though tons of burden lifted from her shoulders, making her giddy. She walked over and touched the thick green grass that came all the way up to the edge of the driveway and surrounded the house.
“I miss grass.” She giggled as she looked up at Remi. “I know that sounds stupid, but I truly do miss seeing grass. I used to walk two blocks to work every day and I felt perfectly safe. I’d watch children playing in front of their houses and families gathering in their side and back yards…on the grass. The embassy doesn’t have grass, it has landscaping.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t dare go outside and enjoy it even if we had a small patch for fear I’d get picked off by a sniper.”
She sat down on the lawn and ran her fingers through the neatly trimmed green leaves. The feeling of freedom made her silly. She laid down flat on her back and moved her legs apart and arms out to her side, then down to her body.
“What the hell you doing?” Remi stood on the concrete driveway, her bags at his feet.
Giggling, she invited, “Come join me. I’m making grass angels.”
“What the fuck?” The confusion on his face made her laugh even harder.
“You’re from Buffalo, you should know all about snow angels.” She spread her legs in and out while bringing her arms to shoulder level then back to her sides, the way she and her mother used to when it snowed on those rare occasions in D.C..
“Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows as though he needed more explanation.
“We don’t have snow in Caracas. So, I’m making grass angels. Come join me,” she encouraged.
With a huge smile, he slowly shook his head. “Sweetheart, I need to get you inside and so we can get you settled. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Willow could eat. The more she thought about it, the hungrier she was. Power drinks and a pack of cheese and crackers was little more than a snack on a regular day, but after being sick, her body was really and truly starving.
“Food sounds like a great idea.” As she started to scramble to her feet, Remi held out his hand. In one swift movement, she was in his arms.
He slowly lowered his head until their lips were an inch apart.
She closed the distance, placing her lips on his. It was new and familiar all at the same time. The kiss was just a taste. A prelude. A promise.
“Hey, Remi. We thought we’d see if you needed help.” The male voice called from the porch as the front door opened.
Deep male chuckles followed.
“I’d say that’s a big negative,” another man added. “I think he’s got the situation handled.”
Remi looked down at her. “Come on. You need to meet my team. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with them in the next few weeks.”
It also meant she was going to be spending a lot of time with Remi. That idea was exciting.
She nodded and grabbed the handle to her rolling bag. “What time is supper?”
“Bruno gave us the ten-minute warning about five minutes ago,” one of the men said. He held out his hand as she approached. “Jake Jamison, ma’am. Pleasure to officially meet you. We had sniper duty on the rig earlier today.” He motioned between himself and the man next to him.
“Zeb Fletcher. I saw that little asshole bump you.” His gaze went to Remi. “I guess we now know why you kept an eye on her all day. It was a damn good thing you were close. He almost shoved her over the edge.”
Willow and Remi exchan
ged a look. So she had been bumped. She hadn’t imagined it.
“Who are you talking about, Zeb?” Remi pinned his man with a stare.
“The short heavyset dweeb.” He looked over at Jake as though he could help him. “The pompous little prick who rode over on the chopper with us.”
“Joseph Allen,” Jake provided. “He wasn’t happy that he had to ride to the rig with the hired help.”
“And back,” Zeb added. “He bitched the whole way.”
“Zeb, you actually saw him push Willow toward the edge of the platform?” Remi clarified.
“No, he didn’t exactly push her. It was more like this.” His man demonstrated a walk-by bump.
Remi nodded once. “Thank you, Zeb. You’ve been a big help.”
The sniper’s grin was sarcastic. “From what I could see, I would’ve been a bigger help if I’d pushed him off the landing platform. I think I would’ve done the world a favor.”
“I take it we’ll be seeing him again?” Jake said as he grabbed the bag from Willow. “I’ve got this.”
“Thank you, Jake,” she said as they stepped into the large foyer. Willow looked around half expecting some directional signs like one would find in a hotel. Glancing over her shoulder at Remi she asked, “Which way is my room?”
“You’re right next to mine.” He headed off to the left and she followed, Jake at her side.
At the room assigned to her, she stopped at the door as Jake carried her bag inside. She looked up at Remi. “It’ll take me a few minutes to freshen up. Will you walk me down to wherever it is we have supper?”
“I won’t leave without you,” he promised. He seemed to scan the area before he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Bruno doesn’t like it when we’re late, and trust me, the food is worth being there on time. You have three minutes until I’m going to knock on this door.”
Just as she was about to go up on her toes and give him a quick kiss, Jake emerged from the room. “You’re all set, ma’am. I’ll see you at supper.”