Hot Soldier Bodyguard

by Cindy Dees

  Joe eased down the hall. The first door on his right was cracked open just enough for him to glimpse a wall of television monitors and the back of a man’s head seated before them. The main nerve center of the security operation. Roger, ops, we have primary target acquisition.

  This was just the Achilles’ heel he’d been looking for. Knock out that room full of monitors and he and Cari could stroll right out of the estate while everyone ran around like chickens with their heads cut off.

  The guy at the video console started to turn and Joe ducked past the doorway quickly. He stopped at the next door, which was closed. He tested the knob. Locked. No time to pick it just now.

  A third door revealed a large storage area lined with shelves and crammed with the usual junk houses accumulated in their basements—Christmas decorations, extra chairs, assorted sports equipment, old lamps, trunks, and lots of dust. In the back, he found a large heating-and-cooling unit and a half-dozen water heaters. No surprise, a large electrical generator sat there, too. It was silent now. Must be the backup system for power outages.

  He checked the hallway before heading out again. The coast was clear. He opened the fourth door and stepped into—

  Holy crap! A torture chamber. It couldn’t be anything else. The walls and ceiling of the room were completely upholstered in thick, padded blankets, the same kind used in food-processing plants to wrap around frozen food while it was shipped. A plain wooden table and a couple of wooden chairs were the only furniture. The lights were naked bulbs behind wire-mesh cages. There was a small drain grate set into the floor in one corner of the room. Probably served as both prisoner toilet and drain when it was time to hose away the blood. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed big, dark blotches on the walls. He would bet his next paycheck those were bloodstains.

  God, what a gruesome place. He would sure as hell hate to end up in here as a client on the receiving end of the twisted services offered within these walls.

  The only door left down here was to the freezer. What the hell. He might as well have a look in it, too. He peeked out into the hallway in time to see a figure disappearing into the security office. He waited a few minutes and, when no one emerged again, sprinted down the hall to the freezer. He eased open the latch and pulled the heavy door open far enough to slip inside. A blast of arctic air slammed into him.

  Before he pulled the door shut behind himself, he checked to make sure there was a latch on the inside, too. Yup. He closed himself in, pulled out his pocket flashlight and shined it around the space, which was larger than he expected.

  He spied a light switch beside the door and flipped it on. The room was maybe twenty feet across and at least that deep. Damn. Eduardo could feed a small army out of this place. Maybe the guy was afraid of a siege or something.

  Joe moved between the rows of tall shelves, stacked high with all kinds of food. In the back of the freezer, there was a large open area, maybe eight feet deep and running the width of the freezer. A long, coffin-shaped box sat on the floor in one corner. Surely, Eduardo didn’t store dead bodies down here. Not when he could dispose of them so easily by tossing them out into the ocean for the plentiful sharks to consume. Joe tried the lid on the box, but it was padlocked shut at both ends. Weird.

  Most of the rest of the space was lined with boxes that, as soon as he got close to them, were self-explanatory. They were explosives and ammunition. Crate after crate of the stuff.

  It wasn’t necessary to store explosives in a cold environment in this day and age. Not since the days of nitroglycerin bouncing around in stagecoaches had explosives been that unstable. Perhaps the thick cement walls and steel-reinforced ceiling of the freezer were the real reason this stuff was stacked in here. A meat locker did make an excellent ammo dump, now that he thought about it.

  He took a last look at the coffin-shaped box. He grabbed a corner of it and tried to lift it. Very heavy. Maybe there were weapons in there.

  The seeds of an escape plan were beginning to take shape in his mind. He would pry open the box, grab a weapon if there were was one inside, maybe snag a little C-4. He could set up a timed cutting charge to blow those wires in the ceiling…. It could definitely work….

  He left the freezer and headed back to the big storage room. He raided the toolbox he’d spotted in there, pulling out pliers, wire and wire cutters. He snagged an old windup alarm clock off one of the shelves, too, and went to work. He wired the clock to the ignition controls of the backup generator. It took several minutes, and he was careful to get it right. His life and Cari’s might depend on this rig working.

  Then grabbed a crowbar and headed back to the meat locker. Quickly, he stashed the tools behind the crates of ammunition. Now, all he had to do was pray he and Cari got a chance to use this stuff sometime soon.

  In the meantime, he’d better head back to bed. It would start getting light before long and, with sunrise, the guards would perk up and be more alert.

  Quickly and carefully, he retraced his steps down the hall and to the stairs. He made his way up them on his belly and stopped just shy of the little office at the top. Damn. The guard was sitting there, eating.

  Joe lay there for ten interminable minutes. He was starting to contemplate jumping the guard from behind and knocking him out in order to get past him when finally, thankfully, the guy stood up. Joe’s heart about stopped as the guy turned toward the stairs. But all he did was pitch a balled-up sandwich wrapper in the trashcan. He turned away, gave his ass a scratch and left.

  Thank God.

  All Joe had to do was make it to the kitchen. From there, he could stroll upstairs with his hoagie in hand, without the slightest need for secrecy. He darted into the kitchen. Safe.

  He unwrapped the sandwich, took a big bite and headed for bed. Tomorrow night, he and Cari would blow this Popsicle stand once and for all and get on with their lives.

  A little voice whispered in the back of his head, our lives together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joe must have fallen asleep after he slipped back in beside Cari because he experienced a definite moment of waking up later. A moment of registering a soft, warm body plastered against him from shoulder to knee. A moment of roaring response by his own body, and an infinitely worse moment of chagrined realization that there was no way in hell he got to roll over and relieve his rock-hard need on the sumptuously sexy female beside him. Yeah, he could wake up to her every morning for the rest of his life and not complain about it a bit.

  He lay there for a few minutes, soaking in the intensely feminine vibe of white lace all around him. A month ago, he’d have said a room like this would drive him crazy. But, now he had to admit, the fringe benefits all the frills worth it.

  Asleep, Cari looked even younger than he knew her to be, and even more innocent. Hell, downright angelic. He tried to slip away from her without waking her up, but she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily as soon as he moved.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

  Her mouth curved up into a smile. “Mmm, I’m not tired.”

  She made no move to lift her limbs off of him, no move to roll away from him and relieve his suffering. If anything, she snuggled even more tightly against him. He closed his eyes. Strength, man. Fortitude.

  Her hand crept up to his neck. Slid into his hair. And brought her naked breast into unabashed contact with his bare chest.

  Fortitude, be damned. He angled his head down and captured her mouth in a full-contact, wet-tongued, tonsil-probing good-morning-to-you kiss. And, Sweet Lord, if she didn’t taste good. Like peaches. How did she do that? He probably tasted like mouth surgery gone putrid. And that was the only thing that caused him to drag his mouth away from hers and come up gasping for air.

  “Again,” she panted.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn’t do this. It was such a bad idea. He’d seen more than one of his own teammates dragged to hell and back by a woman during a mission. He would regret it for t
he rest of his life….

  And he would regret it more if he didn’t kiss her this very second. He drew her against him, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He all but inhaled her, groaning as their tongues scraped together. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  “More, Joe. Oh, please. More….”

  Her hands were straying again, skimming down toward places that didn’t need any attention right now.

  “Easy does it, princess,” he gasped. “We can’t—”

  “Says who?” she grumbled, kissing her way down his neck.

  Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God. Her mouth was following the path of her hands—down, down toward parts of him that ached to have her taste him. And he wasn’t stopping her.

  He. Had. To. Stop. Her.

  It was worse than running in thigh-deep water with an eighty-pound pack on his back, but he managed to drag his hands downward, forced his fingers to wrap around her wrists. He reached deep for the last dregs of his willpower and pulled her hands gently away from him. So that would be what shooting yourself in some vital organ felt like.

  She moaned in frustration.

  “Honey, I know your pain,” he half laughed, half groaned.

  “Then why do we have to stop?” she demanded.

  “Because I’ve got work to do and—” another gut check and deep reach for discipline “—and it’s not right.”

  Her hands came to rest on his chest once more. “What’s so wrong about this?” she murmured. “It feels pretty right to me.”

  His gut was ablaze with need. He really shouldn’t. Except he didn’t want to further scar her when it came to men and rejection. Yeah, that was it. That was his story and he was sticking to it, dammit. That was why he leaned forward and planted another searing kiss on her mouth, lest he let those luscious lips wander where they willed, surrounding him and sucking at him, licking and teasing…

  “What work do you have to do?” Cari asked.

  “I beg your pardon?” He could barely remember his name past the pounding pulse in his crotch.

  “Work. You said you had work to do,” she said breathlessly.

  At least she had the good grace to sound hot and bothered, too. “Uh, right. Gotta ask your father about an outing for you and me. Gotta have a look at the perimeter security along the fences,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Outing?” she repeated, sounding nearly as distracted as he was.

  He sat up. Swung his feet over the side of the bed. Stared at the white carpet between his feet and tried to form complete sentences. “Right. Outing. Like shopping. Or dancing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Which?” he mumbled.

  “Either,” she mumbled back, sitting up as well.

  “I’ll get on it, then.”

  Except when he finally managed to get dressed and stumble downstairs, he was informed that Eduardo was absent today. Out of the house this morning on a business errand. That news cleared his head fast. Was Ferrare out collecting the names and addresses of him and his colleagues in the Blackjacks, perhaps? He had to get the word out to Foley about this latest development.

  After breakfast, Joe headed back to Cari’s bedroom or, more accurately, her bathroom to see how she was making out with reconfiguring his cell-phone signal. She’d skipped the meal to get to work on it for him.

  Carrying a muffin and a glass of orange juice, he shouldered open her bathroom door after calling through the panel to announce himself.

  “I brought you breakfast,” he murmured. “How’s it coming?”

  “Close the door,” she muttered absently.

  He complied and she commented, “Almost done. I’ll need you to attempt a phone call in a minute.”

  It was actually less than a minute before she passed him her cell phone, minus its impact-resistant case. “If it rings,” Cari said, “then it’s working. You’ll be transmitting outside the range of my father’s surveillance-system frequencies and of the jamming setup in here.”

  He dialed Tom Foley’s number. There was a clicking in his ear and he asked quickly, “Is clicking normal?”

  “Yes. That’s actually the Gavronese phone system connecting through.”

  “The call definitely won’t be monitored? I can talk freely?”

  “Definitely.”

  “It’s ringing,” he announced. Damn, she was good.

  It picked up on the third ring. “Who is this?” a male voice snapped.

  Thank God. Foley himself. “It’s me. Doc,” Joe said. “I’m in the clear on my end. Can you talk?”

  “Yes. What’s up?” his boss replied, sounding surprised as hell.

  “Cari rigged my phone so it won’t be monitored by her father’s men. We’ve got news.”

  “About what?” The surprise in Foley’s voice ratcheted up a notch.

  “Eduardo had guests last night. Turns out they’re information brokers and he’s trying to buy the complete roster and home addresses of a certain group of people we both know and love.”

  A long pause greeted that announcement. Thunderous silence out of Tom Foley was never a good thing. It either meant he was cooking up some diabolical scheme or tightly reining in his temper.

  “And he’s planning to do what with this information?” Foley finally bit out.

  “No idea. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess, now, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” A good case of galloping mad was growing in his boss’s gut. Joe could hear it in the clipped way he was pronouncing words.

  Joe continued. “I got pictures of the players last night, but I had to hide the camera. When I retrieve it, I’ll send you the—”

  Joe broke off. Cari was holding out his camera, which still had bits of damp mud clinging to it.

  “You didn’t climb down and get that while I was downstairs, did you?” he asked in dawning horror.

  In his right ear, Foley said, “Come again?”

  And in his left ear, Cari replied gaily, “Nope. I just paid one of the maids a hundred dollars to fetch it for me.”

  “Jesus, Cari,” Joe complained. “She could go straight to your father and tell him about it. Or she might’ve been seen, or told Gunter about the camera and let him find it. We can’t afford to take crazy chances like that!”

  In his right ear, Foley asked, “Who’s Gunter?”

  In his left, Cari retorted, “I’ve known Grace forever. She’s always done favors for me, and she never tells. The extra money helps keep her family fed.”

  Joe scowled at her, his heart pounding in delayed reaction.

  “Doc?” Foley said in his ear again. “What’s going on?”

  Joe sighed. “Cari took a risk but seems to have gotten away with it. She had a maid retrieve my camera. When we’re done talking, I’ll send you the photos from last night’s meeting. An ID on the visitors would be useful.”

  “I can’t wait,” Foley replied dryly. “When are you two out of there?”

  “Working on it. Possibly as early as tonight. I’m scoping out the perimeter systems today to make sure there are no additional security measures on this side of the fence that I didn’t spot in my previous surveillance outside. We’ll need a ride, either by car on the coast road or by fast boat off the coast. And it’ll have to be fast. Eduardo’s men use state-of-the art equipment and vehicles.”

  “Got it,” Foley answered. “We’ll cover both egress routes and be standing by on this end for a call.”

  Joe continued. “Gunter—he’s Eduardo’s chief of security, probably ex-German secret police—runs a tight ship. We’re going to have to do something creative to get out from under his thumb.”

  “Mac and Tex are here. Howdy comes in this evening. Let us know what we can do to help.”

  That was good news. Knowing that most of his teammates were nearby was reassuring. And it gave him more options when it came time to break out of this glorified jail.

  “Any luck tracking down the mole on the support staff?” Joe asked.

/>   “Nada. Whoever it is, they’ve gone to ground and have quit sending out any information for now, as far as we can tell.”

  Joe’s jaw tightened. That mole was one of the main reasons this op was so risky. He stood in grave jeopardy of being exposed and killed if the mole figured out the Blackjacks actually had one of its operators inside Ferrare’s house and relayed that news to Eduardo.

  “Now that we’ve got communication,” Foley said, “call me if you need anything. We’re here to help you two. We’ve got round-the-clock eyes on the compound.”

  “Are you operating out of the same house I did down the beach?” Joe asked.

  “Yup. We’ve still got the armored Mercedes, and Tex scored us a boat yesterday, so we’ve got a ride, either way.”

  “Outstanding,” Joe replied, relieved. All he had to do was get outside the fence with Cari and the Blackjacks would take care of the rest.

  “Just out of curiosity, did you say Cari reconfigured your cell phone?”

  Joe laughed. “Yeah. Turns out, she has a degree in engineering. Specialized in microelectronics.”

  “You’re kidding,” Foley blurted in patent disbelief.

  “As I live and breathe,” Joe replied.

  “I’ll be damned. These Ferrare girls are just full of surprises.”

  “There’s a lot more to them than meets the eye,” Joe agreed.

  Foley snorted. “I don’t know. They’ve both got a hell of a lot to recommend them to the eye.”

  Joe smiled across the small space of the bathroom at Cari. “They do, indeed.”

  “Watch your tail, champ. And I’ll be standing by for those pictures.”

  “Roger.”

  They hung up and Joe immediately plugged the camera into his phone and sent the pictures.

  “Wanna take a shower with me?” Cari asked.