“Dammit to hell—”
“Why on earth—”
“That’s only the half of it,” Payne interrupted them. “They’ve put their newest agent on the case. Guess who it is?”
Jamie’s eyes widened with dawning comprehension. “Oh, no. Surely you don’t mean—”
Guy inhaled, his gaze darting to Payne. “The hell you say—”
“Surely, yes, gentlemen,” Payne told them. “Aggie’s agent is Charlie Martin.”
Silence momentarily reigned as the three of them considered the implications of this news.
“She’s going to be a nightmare,” Jamie said, staring blankly at the wall.
Guy chuckled darkly. “A pissed-off, determined- to-prove-herself nightmare, to be more exact.” He glanced at Payne. “Should we warn Jay?”
Payne shook his head. “There’s no need. He’s going to find out soon enough himself.”
“So much for this not being a war,” Guy remarked. “Something tells me Jay’s going to be doing battle in ways he never anticipated.”
Very true, Payne thought. And though he would never admit it to his partners, unbelievably...his money was on Charlie.
Chapter 3
Though Charlie imagined this was a beautiful drive during the summer months when the leaves were in full display, there was something strangely creepy about the bare branches tangling together in a naked arbor along the driveway that led up to the Betterworth estate. It looked like something directly out of a Tim Burton film, she thought, glad when the bizarre gnarled arch opened onto a large pebbled driveway. The house was actually smaller than she’d expected, given the ones she’d passed as she’d drawn nearer to the residence. Her lips twisted. Of course, as she’d never been inside any multi-million-dollar homes, her mind had supplied Daddy Warbucks’s mansion as her only point of reference.
And the admittedly grand stone manor house before her hardly resembled that. In fact, given the various vines growing up the facade and over the side portico, the home looked as though it would be better suited to the English countryside. Smoke even curled from three different chimneys along the roof. A large fountain featuring frolicking nymphs— naked, of course—stood in the middle of the manicured lawn closest to the house, water burbling from open fish mouths around the perimeter. Three redwinged blackbirds sat on the edge in an odd little row, evidently taunting a large gray cat that lay crouched in the grass. The image made her smile.
Her back weary from the drive, Charlie pulled up beneath the portico and shifted into Park. By the time she’d reached into the passenger seat to grab her purse and her notebook—she still preferred plain old pencil and paper to take notes—a man in a black suit had opened the door for her. “Good afternoon, madam. I assume you are here to see Ms. Aggie?”
Not accustomed to curbside service, as it were, Charlie smiled up at him and nodded. “That’s right. I’m Charlie Martin, with Falcon Security.” Though she would rather have been able to say that she was with Ranger Security, they hadn’t wanted her, the narrow-minded bastards. For an instant renewed anger swelled within her, but she determinedly beat it back. True, Falcon hadn’t been her first choice, but they’d hired her—given her the chance that Ranger hadn’t—and deserved her very best.
She fully intended to give it to them.
Though she’d been given a couple of small jobs— to prove herself, she imagined—this was her first substantial case. Yes, it was a dognapping. But this wasn’t just any dog—it was the richest dog in the country and there were millions of dollars at stake upon its safe return.
Operation Truffles couldn’t be a more ridiculous name for this assignment—which was what the Falcon brothers had dubbed it—but there was nothing absurd about what the Betterworth family ultimately had to lose. Charlie desperately wanted to reunite the little dog with her caretaker and hoped that whoever had snatched the animal wasn’t being cruel to it or worse, had already followed through with their threat to kill it. Miserable SOBs. Cruelty of any kind made her blood boil.
Charlie followed the gentleman through the large foyer down a central hall that led to a magnificent library. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the interior, the woodwork a dark rich mahogany, deeply carved and beautiful. An enormous fireplace anchored one wall, a cozy blaze flickering in the hearth. Lots of poufy velvet-covered chairs were positioned around the room, plush multicolored rugs blanketed the floor and various globes and knickknacks added a certain lived-in atmosphere. The scents of cinnamon and leather hung in the air and the combination conjured a burst of nostalgia for her grandfather, for whom she’d been named. David Charles Martin had been a lifelong reader and had favored cinnamon tobacco.
He’d also been one hell of a cop and was the only one in her family who hadn’t expressed disappointment when she’d announced her career change. He’d merely looked at her with those kind, wise eyes, asked her if she was certain—hadn’t demanded an explanation or plagued her with why—and, when she’d nodded, that had been the end of the conversation. She inwardly scowled.
Would that it had gone so easily with her father, who still wasn’t speaking to her.
When her older brother Jack had elected to join the military—ironically, he was a Ranger—instead of following the law enforcement path of their father, it was Charlie who Jack Martin, Senior, had turned to in order to continue the tradition. And she had, for as long as she was able to stand it. But she refused to spend the rest of her life in a career simply to appease her father. Life was too short for that.
“Ms. Martin to see you, Ms. Aggie,” her escort announced.
Ms. Aggie, who’d been hidden behind one of the chair backs in front of the fire, turned and a relieved smile promptly slid across her rosy painted lips. She was older than Charlie had anticipated, with a wreath of snowy white hair crowning her head and cheeks that weren’t quite plump enough to smooth out the wrinkles. Laugh lines were etched deeply at the corners of her eyes, suggesting a happy spirit and a willingness to find humor in almost any situation. Probably not this one, but... She wore a pretty pink fleece outfit with delicate embroidery around the collar, a pair of shockingly white Keds and reading glasses covered in daisies.
Charlie liked her instantly.
“Ms. Martin,” she said warmly as Charlie strode forward to shake her hand. It was thin, but surprisingly strong. “I’m so glad that you could come on such short notice, but as I explained to your superior, time is of the essence.”
“Of course.”
She gestured for Charlie to sit, then turned to the gentleman who’d shown her in. “Smokey, could you ask Jasmine to bring a tray of tea and sandwiches, please?” She glanced at Charlie. “I’m sure you’re hungry after the drive.”
She’d actually gone through a drive-through on the way over, but didn’t want to appear rude. “Thank you,” Charlie said.
“It’s no problem, dear. It’s rare we have guests, so we all look forward to having company. I’ve had the Rose Room readied for your stay.”
Charlie blinked. She hadn’t been aware that she was going to be staying on the estate, had actually planned to get a room in town. She smiled uncertainly. “Er, I—”
“It’s all settled,” she insisted. “It’ll be easier for you to keep me apprised of what’s going on and, though I know you’ll have to go off and investigate, it’ll be best for all of us if you just make this your base camp. Though the family has hired their own detective, he’ll receive the same accommodation. I thought that would be better,” she said. “Perhaps the two of you can share information.”
The more Ms. Aggie talked, the more confused Charlie became, and knew that her expression was one of frozen perplexity. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to hang onto a few threads of the conversation. “The family has hired their own detective? I’m not working for them?”
“Oh, no,” Ms. Aggie said, as though the idea was unthinkable. “The family is only interested in the dog as it pertains to the money.” She frowned darkly.
“They don’t have a care at all for what happens to my sweet little Truffles. That’s why I hired you,” she added patiently, as though explaining herself to a halfwit
Oh.
Er.. .did Ms. Aggie seriously not see the flaw in her logic? It didn’t matter whether the family had hired someone to find the dog because of the money or because of its well-being, they had still hired someone to find the dog.
The motive was essentially irrelevant as long as the goal was the same.
And the family was highly motivated.
Had the Falcon brothers known this? Charlie wondered. Were they aware that they were representing the caretaker and not the Betterworth family? For whatever reason, she seriously doubted they’d asked for the distinction. It certainly hadn’t occurred to her.
And now not only was she going to be competing against another agent—oh, goody—she was going to be sharing a “base camp” with that person, as well. A dull throb began behind her left eye and she struggled to find her inner cheerleader to rah-rah herself out of this sudden funk of displeasure. She’d been here less than five minutes and already things were going to hell in a handbasket.
Not good.
But not insurmountable, she told herself.
Charlie took a fortifying breath and attempted to make her smile less fixed. “Thank you for bringing me up to speed, Ms. Aggie,” she said. But now that she knew she was working against the clock and against another agent, time was of the essence. “Er... when do you anticipate the arrival of the family’s representative?”
“Mr. Jay Weatherford here to see you, Ms. Aggie,” Smokey announced from the doorway.
Imaginary doom music sounded in Charlie’s head, her stomach dropped to her knees and her startled gaze instantly swung in Smokey’s direction.
“Oh, do come in!” Ms. Aggie trilled, the epitome of graciousness.
The smile that slid across Jay Weatherford’s lips was part aw-shucks, definitely sincere and unutterably sexy. It crooked endearingly at one corner, lifting just enough to make it imperfect but still intriguingly potent.
A strange flash of heat suddenly flared low in Charlie’s belly and spread like wildfire through her veins. Her breath thinned, shallowed out until she could barely feel it moving between her lips. A dull roaring buzzed in her ears and the vibrations eddied through her nipples, which ruched inexplicably behind her bra.
She was so stunned she momentarily stopped breathing altogether.
Certain that he was welcome, he ambled into the room, his gait a...drawl for lack of a better description. It was unhurried, loose-limbed and confident. It drew the eye to his long legs and lean hips and beautifully sculpted torso. While she didn’t imagine he spent every waking moment in the gym, he was definitely fit. The dark brown sweater he wore was loose enough to be comfortable, but still showcased enough bulk and muscle definition to make her mouth water.
But ultimately, it was his face that proved to be the most interesting.
It was rather long, his chin a smidge too sharp and his nose a bit too big. His eyes were a vivid memorable blue and fringed with curly, golden lashes. They matched his hair, she thought absently. Taken in parts there wasn’t anything remarkable about his features, but together they made up a visage that was more rugged than handsome, more arresting than attractive. It was a face that compelled the viewer to more than look—to study—and that quality was as enigmatic as it was inescapable.
She was riveted.
He shook Ms. Aggie’s hand and then hers—thankfully, she felt the blistering contact jar her to her mislaid senses—and continued to smile down at them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
For now, Charlie thought. But she seriously doubted he’d be pleased with her for long.
Impossibly, her motivation for finding the dog first had just climbed even higher. It was all she could do not to laugh maniacally and rock back on her heels because she could imagine no greater joy or satisfaction than besting Ranger Security’s newest golden boy.
The one they’d hired instead of her.
And, oh, to be a fly on the wall when Payne, Flanagan and McCann heard about it.
* * *
“How fortuitous that you’ve just arrived,” Ms. Aggie enthused, her voice reminiscent of the Old South, where four was fo-uh and supper and dinner meant two completely different things. Her eyes were kind, her smile genuine and her hair was bright white and fluffy, putting him in mind of a dollop of whipped cream.
At her comment, the younger woman appeared to smother a snort. His gaze shifted fleetingly to her, but that minute glance was enough to make his stomach tighten and his groin contract. She had a wide forehead, large curiously mocking hazel eyes, a small stub of a nose and a mouth that was plump and pillowy and curved into a perpetual tilt. Her hair was jet black, very glossy with a pronounced widow’s peak, and it hung to just below her sharp little chin.
He was strongly reminded of a kitten he’d had as a boy, one they’d named Satan for its temper. He smothered a grin.
No doubt she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
But she was quite striking, with her kittenish face and pom star mouth, Jay thought broodingly.
Part of the family? he wondered. Or part of the staff? He’d know soon enough, he supposed, but intuition told him the latter. Her clothes were nice, but appeared to be chosen for durability instead of fashion. She wore a pretty coral-colored cable-knit sweater that showcased a very lush pair of breasts, plain khaki pants that were quite wrinkled at the top of the thighs from sitting too long, and trendy leather lace-up boots, the kind with plenty of sole. Silver earrings dangled from her ears, a serviceable watch circled her wrist and her fingers were bare, even her nails.
If she were a Betterworth he’d eat his boxers.
“I’m glad I’ve arrived at a time that’s convenient for you, Ms. Aggie,” he said smoothly. “I believe my colleague, Brian Payne, called ahead and told you to expect me.”
“Yes, he did,” she confirmed. She gestured for them both to sit, then settled into her own chair, but before she could carry on, a woman bearing a tray of tea and sandwiches breezed into the room. The scent of roast beef suddenly permeated the air, making his mouth water. He hadn’t stopped to eat on the drive over, had preferred to stay on the road.
The woman set her burden down on a foot stool at Ms. Aggie’s feet. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her gaze warm.
“Oh, no, Jasmine, this is plenty. Thank you, dear.” She quirked a delicate brow at her guests. “Refreshments?”
“I believe I’ll have some tea, thank you,” the mystery woman said.
Well, if they’d gone to the trouble to put together the sandwiches, then it would be rude for him not to select a wedge or two, Jay decided magnanimously. No doubt Kitty-Cat—he cast a glance in her direction—was watching her girlish figure or some such nonsense. In his experience, women were forever concerned about their weight, demurely picking through a salad as though it was a minefield, then falling upon the dessert at the end of the meal like starved hyenas. It boggled the mind.
Jay laid a napkin across his knee and helped himself, eliciting a smiling nod of approval from his hostess. “A man with a hearty appetite,” she said. “I like that.”
From the comer of his eye he perceived the slightest tightening of Kitty-Cat’s jaw. Intriguing. Who was this woman? Had she eaten Bitch Bran for breakfast this morning? Or had he, somehow, without having ever met her before, managed to offend her?
He laughed softly. “Hearty is one way to describe it, I suppose,” he said. “My mother always said she thought I had an empty leg to fill along with my stomach.”
“Oh, I had boys,” Ms. Aggie said knowingly. “I remember how much they could eat. I used to liken them to army ants, parading through the kitchen, stripping the fridge bare.”
“Ms. Aggie, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Truffles’s disappearance,” Kitty- Cat quickly interjected.
&
nbsp; Though her tone was polite, Jay detected the slightest note of impatience. She withdrew a notebook and pencil from a bag next to her chair and flipped to a new page. A reporter then? That wasn’t good. He’d been under the impression that the family hadn’t planned to alert the media, that a host of false Truffles sightings would only muddy the waters and hinder the process.
She smiled then and the transformation of her face, the mere rearrangement of muscles, was instantly breathtaking. “The sooner I can start looking for your dear pet, the sooner I can find her,” she said, her voice softening.
It was a nice voice—a bit smokey and melodic. It was so nice, in fact, that it took a moment to process the words she’d uttered in that lovely voice, but once their meaning surfaced, he was immediately confused.
And even more wary.
She was looking for the dog? But how could that be? That’s what he was here to do. Clearly she was mistaken, but it wasn’t his place to correct her. He cast a glance at Ms. Aggie, whose smile had gone sad.
The older woman nodded. “You’re right, of course,” she said, to Jay’s amazement.
He laughed uncertainly. “With all due respect, ma’am, that’s what I’m here to do, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “That’s why I said your timing was fortuitous, dear. This way I won’t have to repeat myself.”
Though he tried to disguise his confusion, he was convinced that Kitty-Cat saw through him because, for the first time since he’d walked into the room, she looked as if she was actually enjoying herself. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite squelch her cat-who-ate- the-canary smirk. At any moment he fully expected her to hack up a few feathers.
Rather than continue to delicately mine the situation one confusing question at a time, Jay turned directly to Kitty-Cat and extended his hand. “Jay
Up In Flames (Ranger Security Book 3) Page 3