by Alison Kent
Consulting her watch, she realized that she had just enough time. Lily’s house in Beverly Hills wasn’t far from Wilshire Boulevard.
This was the reason her family considered her scatterbrained. How could she have forgotten about her meeting? She saw that she had fourteen missed calls from Jason. He must be frantic. She’d stop by the office first and then off to Lily’s. Why, oh, why did she do these stupid things?
To her credit, she had been drugged, kidnapped and interrogated, and then recruited into a dangerous mission. So her mind had been on other things. She was supposed to have Lily’s home finished for a party by Friday. Thankfully, she was almost done. She did some quick calculations. It was now Sunday, which left her five days. All she would need was maybe ten hours or so to finish.
“Problem?” Thad asked.
Thad would try to stop her. But she did have a business to run and she smiled. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
DREW LET HIMSELF back into his loft. When he closed the door and turned around, no one was there. His meeting with Jammer had been productive. Jammer had wanted to know if Gina was going to be able to go through with the buy. Drew had told him that the buy was still on and Gina expected to deal directly with the Ghost. Jammer had nodded and told him that the Ghost would be there. Jammer insisted that he see Gina at a public place, one that would be safe for both of them. Drew said he would be in touch regarding Jammer’s request.
The bathroom door was closed and for just a moment, he wondered what Thad and Allie were doing together in the bathroom.
His bed was made, the comforter smoothed down, the decorative pillows in place. He found some paper on the nightstand with a list:
Add color, too bland.
Turquoise would go nicely with the chocolate furniture.
Need a rug in the hall and a table.
Modern sculpture would work well, oh, that divine Kevin Sanders piece would be perfect. Talk to Drew about decorating all the Watchdog spaces. They need my help.
She had made notes…about the loft. Not only that, but she was thinking about taking Watchdog on as a client. He chuckled. He couldn’t seem to help it. She was so unconventional. He went to the bathroom, opened the door and stopped dead.
The bathroom looked as if Thad had been wrestling crocs in it. The nightgown she’d been sleeping in was hung over the towel rack. He bent down and picked up a pair of silk briefs, rubbing the material against his thumb, thinking the fabric had been against her skin, against her clit. He was completely pathetic. He envied a swatch of fabric.
The bag she’d packed when he’d taken her to her apartment last night was open and his gaze got caught on other silky garments and unmentionables spilling out onto the tile floor. Unable to help himself, knowing he was violating her privacy, he picked up a soft bra, a plain white. He’d never thought of himself as a man who got off on women’s undergarments, especially ones so white-bread, all-American-girl, but Allie was different, different in too many tempting ways.
A car started up on the street and brought him out of his sensual funk. They weren’t here. Thad leaving without contacting him was puzzling, but if Thad deemed it necessary, he would have done so in a heartbeat.
He punched in Thad’s cell number, but got his voice mail. Now Drew was starting to worry. He walked out of the bathroom and that’s when he saw it, a note on the bar between the kitchen and the dining room.
He read the words:
Important decorating business. Will be back by noon. We should try that deli on the corner for lunch. Regards, Allie (aka Gina)
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, caught between exasperation and amusement. The woman was a menace. He crumpled the note in his hand. Swearing, he flung the note toward the wastebasket and slammed out of the loft.
DREW CAME THROUGH her office door like a ramrod. Allie’s receptionist actually rolled her chair away from him.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Allie Carpenter,” he growled in reply.
“Sh-she’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
“Katie, could you be a dear and run across the street and procure me a mocha latte.”
Drew eyed the Asian man who sauntered out of a doorway. He had his face buried in the front page of the Los Angeles Times Home and Garden Section. He wore a cinnamon-colored silk shirt open at the throat with a loosely knotted Prada tie, a brown military-style jacket, tan slacks and really expensive shoes. His medium-length hair was jet-black, threaded through with bright-red highlights.
The receptionist stood. “Mr. Kyoto. This…ah…gentleman is here to see Ms. Carpenter.”
“She’s not here. Can I help you? I’m her assistant. Jason Kyoto.”
Between Drew’s military training and his mercenary pursuits, he’d honed his powers of observation. In his opinion, Jason was trying just a bit too hard to look the part of a designer. Then there was the slight bulge beneath the jacket, a sure indication of a concealed weapon. The kind of alertness that Jason was exhibiting signaled to Drew that Allie’s assistant was more than he pretended to be. The fancy clothes couldn’t hide the street tough beneath.
When he laid the paper down, Drew caught a glimpse of ink just below his collar. Anyone else would be fooled by him, but Drew was adept at looking below the surface and never taking anything at face value. Drew tried to calm his anger. It wouldn’t help. “I need to find Allie. Could you tell me where she is?”
“She was here about an hour ago. She went to a job. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you when she gets back this afternoon.”
Yup. Drew heard the steel that threaded through the man’s voice. Not a trace of an accent, but Drew was sure Jason Kyoto was pure Japanese without a drop of American blood in him. “I’m afraid I can’t wait.” He smiled back with the same tight, controlled smile.
Jason’s shoulders stiffened. “What’s this about?”
“That would be none of your business,” Drew told him in a clipped voice.
“Why don’t we step into my office and we can discuss this. Katie, why don’t you take a coffee break? And on your way back, get me that latte.” Jason pulled a twenty out of his wallet.
Katie got up from her desk and couldn’t get her coat on fast enough. She took the money from Jason’s hand and exited the office. Jason moved toward his office door, and as Drew came in, Jason grabbed his wrist and swung Drew around, intending to slam him against the wall. But Drew was ready for him and in a smooth pivot, it was Jason who was plastered against the wall, his arm bent behind his back.
With a quick movement, Drew relieved him of his firearm. “A Fedor Tokarev, a semi-automatic pistol favored by the yakuza, if I’m not mistaken. A cheap, Russian-made piece of crap. I thought so.”
“What did you think, hotshot?”
“You’re no interior designer. You’re a pro.” Drew leaned into Jason, putting pressure on his trapped arm and wrist.
Jason grunted in pain. “Who are you?”
“Someone you don’t want to mess with, junior.”
Jason laughed. “You’re going to tell me who you are and why you need to speak with Allie or you get nothing.”
“Did Callie hire you?”
“Should have known you were a Fed.”
Drew let him go, convinced the young man was Allie’s bodyguard. Jason turned around, rubbing at his wrist where Drew had clasped him and held him to the wall.
“I’m not a Fed.”
Jason smirked as only a youth can. “Right, you work for the government. Makes you a Fed in my book.”
“And you, junior. Who do you work for?”
“You’re a smart guy. Callie Carpenter, though this is the craziest thing she’s ever asked me to do.”
“What is that?”
“Pose as a gay interior designer.” Jason flexed his wrist. “Whatever you’ve gotten Allie into, her sister won’t like it. She pays me a lot of money to keep Allie safe.”
No surprise there. Callie had been careful to leave off the fact that she had a twin. Her brother Max was listed, but he was FBI and obviously known to various authorities already. “So, it must have cheesed you that I kidnapped her right beneath your nose?”
“That was you? No, it wasn’t pleasant to find her gone. I went out for pizza, but I left the apartment locked.”
“We both know how easy it is to pick a lock.”
“What could you possibly want with Allie? She’s totally innocent and unaware of her sister’s profession.”
“Not anymore, and what I want with her is classified information. As I said before, it’s none of your business.”
“I’m afraid I’m making it my business, pal.”
Drew made a calculated decision. Allie needed to be back in his protection. It wasn’t wise for her to be free and running around the city where the Ghost was operating. He’d seen smaller things muck up an undercover operation. He handed Jason his gun. “Allie is doing a job for us…”
“What? Callie is going to be pissed.”
“Callie’s been hurt. She’s safe now and being cared for.”
The color drained out of Jason’s face. “No wonder she didn’t turn up the other night and I couldn’t get a hold of her.” He leaned back against the wall, stunned for a moment. Then his dark eyes met Drew’s and he said in a steely soft voice, “Who?”
“We don’t know. It could have been a simple accident, but we can’t be sure.”
Jason paused before saying, “I think I’ve got an idea who it might be.”
“Who?”
“A notorious yakuza named Fudo Miyagi. If Allie is planning on taking on Callie’s alias Gina Callahan…” He smirked when he saw Drew’s expression. “Yeah, I know all about her and her mission to bag the Ghost. It’s a good idea to get Allie someplace where we can keep an eye on her.”
“We?”
“My guarding Allie has nothing to do with money.”
“Callie called in a favor. Is that it?” Drew sat down on the edge of Jason’s desk.
“She did.”
“Sounds like you owe her big-time. But I already picked my team. People I trust.”
“Tough, I owe Callie in a major way.”
“Fine. But, I’m making no promises. Name’s Drew Miller. Now take me to Allie.”
4
JASON LED Drew to a huge mansion in Beverly Hills. Once they were through the gate, Jason got off his bike and walked right up to the house. “Shouldn’t we knock?” Drew asked.
“Nope” was all Jason said as he walked into the grand foyer. The place was in different stages of design. Drew could hear Allie’s voice coming from somewhere nearby.
“I don’t think so. Move it over here. Hmm, no move it back.”
“Bloody hell, sheila, make up your mind.”
“Shh. I’m working. And thinking. Just move it like I told you to.”
“A bossy sheila, too. How I let you talk me into this…”
Drew entered the room, which was lined with bookcases from ceiling to floor, with an ornate desk near a large bay window. But Drew’s eyes were centered on Thad hefting a sofa. Well, a prissy thing that could be mistaken for a sofa. He had the piece tucked under his arm.
Allie sat sideways in a wingback chair, swinging her legs and surveying the area where Thad was standing. Neither of them saw him or Jason in the doorway.
“Look, this was supposed to take an hour. The captain doesn’t like his orders bucked. He’ll have my ass.”
“Too late, Michaels.”
“Bugger,” Thad said as he boggled the sofa.
Allie shrieked, but Jason moved as quickly as lightning and caught the end before it tumbled out of Thad’s grip.
Jason met Thad’s eyes. “That’s worth eight grand. You break it. You bought it.”
“Eight thousand dollars? Bloody hell, you can’t even lie down on it.”
“You’re not supposed to lie down on it, silly. It’s a French Louis XV salon sofa. It’s mid-nineteenth-century and it’s upholstered with Aubusson tapestry in the theme of Aesop’s fables. Oh, so chi-chi,” Allie piped up, eyeing Drew.
“Forget the damn sofa,” Drew ordered. Thad and Jason set the piece down.
“It’s a damn pricey sofa,” a female voice said behind Drew. “Mmm, Allie, you do have the most delicious helpers.”
A tall, glamorous-looking woman in her late twenties strode into the room. Thad looked as though someone had just coldcocked him.
“You were moving this sofa around all by yourself?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oooh, an Australian accent.” She held out her hand to Thad. “I’m…”
“Lily Walden, Senator Walden’s daughter,” Allie supplied.
Lily smiled and shook Thad’s hand.
“Thad,” Drew said between gritted teeth. The man was besotted.
Drew moved into the room and faced Lily. “I’m afraid this employee has an errand to run. Don’t you, Michaels?”
“Errand?” he muttered.
“Yes, errand.”
“I won’t take up any more of your time. Allie, I just wanted to mention that I love the copper accents in the bathrooms. Nice touch.”
“Thanks, Lily.”
“The rest will be done in time for my party on Friday, right?”
Allie glanced at Drew anxiously. “Of course it will. Five days is plenty of time. I don’t have much left to do.”
“Good.” Lily left the room.
Thad’s eyes followed her out until they bumped into Drew’s angry face. That seemed to snap him out of his fog. “She said it would take an hour.”
“She snookered you. In the note, she said she’d be back by noon.”
“Bloody hell.” Thad gave Allie a hurt sidelong glance. She hadn’t moved from the wing chair, but Jason went and stood next to her.
“I didn’t want you to leave the loft. I didn’t say I didn’t want you to leave the loft, but you knew what I meant.”
“Captain, I’m sorry. She has those blue eyes.”
“You followed her like a puppy because she has blue eyes.”
“Superhero-blue eyes like laser beams that take over a man’s mind.”
Drew rubbed at his temple; he knew exactly what Thad meant. Allie was irresistible, with her cute charm and those eyes that could drop-kick a man into the next time zone.
“Get out of here. I expect you at the briefing at thirteen-thirty.”
“Yes, sir.”
Drew walked over to Allie.
“The sofa wasn’t delivered at the time the delivery company said it would be, and I had to find the correct place for it in the room, didn’t I?”
He said nothing as he took her arm and pulled her up from the chair.
“Wow, you look mad. Are you mad?”
Drew still said nothing as he started to pull her toward the door.
“Okay, he’s mad. Did anyone ever tell you that you look, like, überscary when you get mad? Mad-dog-killer scary.”
Jason started to follow.
“Drew, I’m not finished here.” Allie dug in her heels and since Drew had no intention of bruising her arm, he stopped.
“We don’t have time for decorating, Allie.”
“Don’t say it like that. It’s my job. My livelihood. I’ve already accepted a retainer from Lily. She’s an ‘It Girl,’ Drew. Do you know what this will do for my business?”
“Do you remember Watchdog and what you have already agreed to, Allie? I didn’t twist your arm.”
“No, that is true. You didn’t. Wait, please.” Her resistance pulled him to another stop.
“Let me explain,” she continued. “This is the kind of thing that I do. I leap before I look. Truly. Ask my family if you don’t believe me,” she said bitterly. “I’m not proud of it. I’m quirky like that, but I do want to go through with everything. I just need a few more minutes here. Don’t we have time?”
“Our time is going
to quickly run out. I’ve gleaned some important information that you need to be briefed on.” Drew looked at Jason. “And your assistant here has something he also needs to tell you.”
“A second. I only need a second.” It was then that she looked at him with those blue eyes, so expressive, so deep he could get lost in them.
“Jason,” he said wearily. “Help me move this.”
Jason dutifully bent down and grabbed one end of the sofa.
It was bad enough that he caved about the damn sofa, but she also got him and Jason to hang a tapestry.
“Now the throw pillows and we’re—”
“I draw the line at throw pillows, Allie. It’s time to go.”
“All right,” she said in that scolding, narrow-eyed way that still made her look cute. She was probably trying to be a jungle cat, but was only turning out to be a little spitting kitten. He was skeptical that she could pull off the Gina Callahan persona.
They were all going to die.
She picked up the gold and brown pillows and set them on the sofa.
He walked out of the room that was shaping up into a fancy library and flipped open his phone. He punched in the phone number and waited for the call to go through.
“Yeah,” Damian Frost’s cool Irish accent was evident in his low voice coming through the phone. In the unofficial covert-ops business, he was known as a shadow warrior: unconventional, with long dark hair held in a ponytail, enigmatic, a man of very few words and deadly actions. Drew would have called him a global vigilante except for his dedication to his own rigid code of conduct and his ability to carry out missions with almost no violence. Reported to have once been part of the IRA, he had devoted his life to busting arms dealers, also he was the most amazing info-gathering hacker Drew had ever met.
“I need you to check someone out for me.”
“Shoot.”
“Kyoto—goes by the name Jason Kyoto. I think he is, or was, yakuza. I saw a tattoo just below his collarbone. I’d stake my life he’s full Japanese, but he speaks English like he was born and raised here. I want to know what he eats for lunch, Frost.”