by Leslie North
“Not yet,” Spencer said, walking over to inspect the bullet hole in the wall, then squinting across the room. “From the trajectory and size of the entry point, I’d say your assailant used a Dragunov SVD, Russian-made sniper rifle. Most likely a well-trained ex-Russian marksman. Or a middle-eastern based terrorist. Putin’s new regime needs funds so they’ve been known to deal arms on the black market.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened and Toni rushed for the door. “Uh, Paige. Give us a moment please. Thank you.”
Paige shot Spencer a wary look before exiting. He turned back in time to see Toni’s hands trembling as she closed the door, though she hid it quickly.
“Well, then.” Toni straightened her own outfit before resuming her seat, her expression prim as a church lady on Sunday. “You seem to know an awful lot about the Russian military.”
“Hang around Kandahar for a few months and you learn all sorts of interesting things.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze on her pale face, wondering why she was trying so hard to act like the attack hadn’t just happened. “Look, ma’am, I know—”
“Toni.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can call me Toni.” She smiled and his dismal outlook brightened a tad. “Since we’ll be working together.”
“Oh, um, okay.” A bit surprised, he straightened his tie then shook her hand. “Great. I thought…”
“Listen, Spencer. I’ve had my share of bodyguards who did everything by the book. And as you can see,” she gestured toward the hole in her window and the subsequent mess left behind, “that’s left me with certain…vulnerabilities. So, this time, I’m ready for a change. Ready to try something…outside the book.”
“Right.” She couldn’t get much more outside the book than a rogue band of SEALs on a black ops mission to find a killer at all costs, he supposed. “Then I’m your man.”
“Can you start immediately?” She escorted him back toward the door, oddly calm considering the fact she’d just been used for target practice. “I realize you might have things on your agenda today that you need to handle, but I’d like you to be on call in case anymore emergencies arise. Plus, we leave for Jubail in two days and I’ll need to get you up to speed on my itinerary before our departure and we’ll need to ensure you have all your travel documentation in order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” At her impassive look, Spencer smiled. “Sorry. Toni. And I can start whenever you need me.”
“Good.” She stopped near the receptionist desk again. “Be back in the office by tomorrow morning at nine sharp and we’ll get started. And leave your cell number with Paige in case I need to get ahold of you.” She turned to her assistant. “Call the police now and also the building super. I want to move my things across the hall and get the damage in my office repaired, please.”
“Right away.” The blonde gave Spencer a not-so-subtle wink as she picked up her phone. “Have a great day, Mr. Nixon. Welcome aboard.”
“Make sure you stay away from windows,” Spencer called to Toni’s retreating back as she walked away.
“Already covered.” She raised her hand in response. “The room across the hall is interior. No views outside at all.”
Right. Okay. Spencer wrote his cell number on a Post-it note, handed it to Paige, and headed back down to the building’s lobby, he couldn’t seem to shake off either his lingering concern for her well-being or his stupid grin. Babysitting an heiress wasn’t exactly at the top of his most-wanted-duties list, but perhaps this job would suck a bit less than he’d first anticipated. Not to mention the fact Kyle would flip when he told him about the note Miles Arrieta had sent to Toni. He pulled out his cell phone and sent off a quick text to his team about the new intel while he waited for the elevator to arrive.
He reached the first floor again just as a contingent of security guards raced past him for the stairs and headed for Toni’s floor, while another rushed toward the front entrance, their radios squawking loud about reports of a possible active shooter situation and semi-conscious victims found in the neighboring alleyway.
Spencer veered toward a less crowded side entrance, pushing outside into the mid-morning DC sunshine and scanning the surrounding rooftops for more signs of snipers. Nothing. He walked to the beat-up black SUV that served as the team’s current mode of transportation parked along the curb a block or so away just as the first squad cars screeched up to Toni’s building sirens wailing.
First on his agenda, get back to Scotty’s condo—which the team was using as a makeshift headquarters these days—and get them working on investigating the identity of today’s shooter. Miles Arrieta wasn’t one to get his own hands dirty on such a small job, but it did add credence to the fact they were on the right track. Coran Williams had always fancied himself a patriot for the press. Wasn’t a huge jump for a patriot to turn fanatic. And wouldn’t all those lovely connections he had through his publishing empire make a lovely network for filtering secret codes to terrorists. At least that was Kyle’s hunch. That and the fact there wasn’t a better way to get to Williams than through his precious daughter.
Yep. Spencer climbed behind the wheel of the SUV and started the engine, then signaled before pulling out into traffic. Today had been productive. He’d secured his position as Toni’s new bodyguard, learned that she had limited contact with her father, or so she said anyway, and found concrete proof in the form of that threatening note that somehow Miles Arrieta was involved in all of this as well. Tomorrow, hopefully, he learned even more.
As he headed down the Capital Beltway toward Woodrow Wilson Bridge, he remembered the day Commander Brighton had covertly rehired them after their suspension. The vows he and the team made repeated in his head, steeling his resolve and spurring him onward.
For justice. For freedom.
For Nick.
Upstairs, Toni sank into a chair in what would be her new, windowless digs, her hands shaking as badly as her knees. It had taken all her strength to put on a brave front before Spencer Nixon, but now that she was alone again, the shock and terror were definitely catching up with her.
This wasn’t how she wanted to live her life, constantly looking over her shoulder for the next attack, constantly afraid. An introvert at heart, being the life of the party at her events was hard enough without people trying to shoot her. Still, it was an act she’d perfected over the years out of necessity.
Speaking of necessity…
She picked up the note she’d given to Spencer to read and stared at the words. Toni had learned passable Arabic herself through her contacts with relief organizations in the Middle East and could read the thing well enough herself, but he’d been right. It had been a test. She’d gone through more than her fair share of bodyguards these past couple of months and she wanted to make sure she got someone highly qualified this time. Never mind the guy was drop-dead gorgeous. He was strictly off-limits, as were relationships in general, at least until after this trip to Jubail.
Interesting that he’d not said a word about the e-readers.
Part of her was glad. Maybe he considered the idea as impractical as she did. Sure, the thought had occurred to her that e-readers would make a pretty nifty way to transfer information between parties, but then she’d discarded the notion just as quickly. In order for it to be a feasible way to traffic data, there would have to be a whole set of codes manufactured and a whole set of individuals trained to read said code. It would be a massive investment of years and millions of dollars to institute. Who would have that kind of time or resources to devote to such a thing? Who would even care enough to try?
Your father.
Toni shoved the thought aside as soon as it occurred. No. She refused to believe it. It was all nothing but empty lies sold in the tabloids. Lies used as weapons to destroy what good she’d tried to accomplish in her father’s name. And all of it as part of her desperate attempts to earn her father’s approval. How pathetic was that? She snorted and shook her head. Even with all
her achievements, she still had daddy issues.
Irritated, she shoved the note aside for the cops to take into evidence.
Nope. She refused to let these idiots, whoever they were, stop her.
Not now. Not when she’d come this far.
And really, it wasn’t all about her father. Not anymore. This charity mission was critical to her foundation. If she couldn’t deliver the e-readers as promised to her biggest supporter in the region, Sheik Saaed, then she’d lose her funding and the Williams Wishes foundation would cease to exist. All the years she’d put into building the charity into what it was today—a multi-national voice for children’s rights and literacy—would be for nothing.
Then there was also her reputation to consider. It was one thing to be considered a walking, talking Barbie doll by the press. It was quite another for someone at one of her father’s rival tabloids to start a nasty—and completely unfounded—rumor of misappropriation of funds within her foundation. Rumors, unfortunately, she couldn’t answer without help from her father and his private financial records. Records she wouldn’t have access to until he returned from whatever mystery location he’d disappeared to this time.
Ugh. She covered her face with her hands. Truth was, the foundation was faltering and if she couldn’t pull off this PR “win” in Jubail for Sheik Saaed and his organization, then she might be better off letting that sniper bullet hit her next time.
Toni took a deep breath and stretched out her legs in front of her, careful to avoid the shards of shattered glass that littered even the carpet in this room. Avoid the windows, Spencer had warned. His words repeated as she stared at one perfect gardenia in the hallway beyond, its green leaves almost as bright as his emerald eyes. She took a deep breath of flower-scented air and let her mind drift to the way he’d shielded her with his body, all his muscles and sinews pressed tight against her.
The remembered sensations were enough to make her cheeks heat anew. She wasn’t some blushing virgin, by any means, but she didn’t quite live up to her party-girl hype either. Honestly, her new bodyguard was the first man who’d been that close to her in months, so maybe that was why he had felt so good.
That’s the excuse she was going with, anyway.
She straightened and attempted to refocus on her upcoming presentation for the Jubail trip until another knock sounded and Paige stuck her head around the door again. “The police are at my desk and building maintenance is on their way.”
“Great, send the officers back.” Toni stood and smoothed a hand down the front of her dress, a slight tremor running through her. Probably lingering shock, she supposed, and grabbed a sweater to tug on over her arms. Not nearly as warm as Spencer’s body, but it would have to do. After all, he would be her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. In fact, number one on tomorrow’s agenda would be getting Spencer’s input to make sure they all survived the upcoming trip intact.
Chapter 2
The next morning, Toni was working on the storyboards for her presentation when Spencer showed up at the office. She’d roughed out the general idea of things, but wanted a fresh perspective. She waved him into the room as he and Paige passed by her door on his new employee tour. “Hey, can you take a look at these for me?”
He halted and did a quick double-check to make sure she was talking to him before entering her office. “Uh, okay. Sure, boss.”
She smiled and stepped to the side to allow him to see what she’d done. She’d graduated cum laude from Stanford with a degree in law, thanks to her father footing the bill for her tuition—but she’d also earned an online certificate from their prestigious Graduate School of Business in Innovation and Entrepreneurship. A good choice considering she could make a mean pie chart or sell the heck out of a project for her foundation when needed.
Careful to keep an appropriate distance between them, Toni watched Spencer trace one long tapered finger over the artwork and copy, then down the columns of data. Today, she noticed, he’d gone for a more business casual look, losing the suit in favor of a crisp white button-down shirt, khakis, and a forest green tie to compliment his eyes. Hard to believe a man so strong and sure and self-possessed was only twenty-five, but she supposed the notoriously harsh SEAL training probably forced them to mature fast. He was just a year older than her and—like her, she supposed—he’d worked hard to get where he was and earn his respect.
While she waited for his opinion, her eyes were drawn to the way his shirt stretched tight across his muscled back and how the scent of sandalwood and vanilla from his aftershave made her want to eat him up like her favorite dessert.
She shook her head to clear it, but memories of the day before resurfaced anyway—the tight press of his body against her, the warmth of his skin, the brush of his soft auburn hair feather-light against her cheek as they’d sprawled on the floor. Sudden heat flowed through her veins at the memories, sweet as raw honey.
Alarmed, Toni took another step away from temptation and crossed her arms, feeling oddly exposed despite her long-sleeved red sweater and black pants. “So, what do you think?”
“Honestly?” Spencer straightened and turned to face her, his expression unreadable.
“I always want the truth.” She’d learned that from her father. The truth, however, painful was best. “Give it to me.”
A spark of admiration flitted through his eyes, so fast she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. “I’m impressed.”
Flushing at his compliment, she stepped closer to gather up the poster boards and realized too late he’d not moved an inch. Her arm brushed his and her whole right side tingled. “Good. What did you like about it specifically?”
“Well, first off its relatable, which I expect would be important for a charity looking to widen its audience. You want to be culturally sensitive without being condescending. And by choosing traditional Arabic artwork for the graphics, you’ve respected their Muslim traditions and beliefs. Yet the data shows how they can use these e-readers to benefit their communities and their children’s lives. No easy feat, given the tensions in the region.”
Now she was the one who was impressed. “How much time did you spend in Jubail?”
“Almost a year, after Operation Iraqi Freedom ended. I was nineteen.” One side of his lips quirked into a small smile. “Fresh out of SEAL training and gung-ho to save the world. Our team helped rebuild the country and train their local militia forces.”
“Wow. That must’ve been a lot for someone so young.”
“It was definitely a learning experience, that’s for sure.”
“I bet.” She stacked the poster boards neatly, then took her seat, gesturing toward the overstuffed chairs on the other side of her desk. Her plan was to give the main presentation on site in Jubail using her laptop, but she always liked to have everything duplicated in hardcopy in case of an emergency. “So, you’re pretty familiar with their culture then?”
“Yep.” Spencer stretched out his long legs, his feet accidentally brushing hers before he pulled them away and apologized. “Jubail’s a beautiful place and the people are great, for the most part. After the American troops pulled out, radicalized rebels came in over the border and gained a foothold in the outskirts. There was this one place I remember, a lake near the mountains in the south. Always reminded me of this spot where my dad and I used to go fishing when I was a kid.”
Shadows darkened his handsome features and it was obvious a story lurked there, deep and painful, but she didn’t feel comfortable asking him about it yet. Maybe when they’d known each other longer. “Given your knowledge of the country and the citizens, I’d like your help on this presentation, Spencer.”
Looking genuinely shocked, he narrowed his gaze. “Really?”
“Yes. You have the insider expertise I need to ensure this trip is a success. No pressure or anything, but the future of this foundation hangs on this presentation, the fate of all those children who can learn to read and benefit from the stories on thes
e e-readers.”
He sat back and stared at her a moment. “Yeah, no pressure at all then.”
“Nope.” She grinned.
“Nope.” He laughed. “You’re not what I expected.”
She didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to her breasts before returning to her face, her defenses rising. “Exactly what did you expect? A bubble-brained rich girl who dabbles in charity work as a way to blow through more of her daddy’s money?” She was well aware of how most of the world viewed her, despite everything she’d done to prove her worth and kindness to the watchful hordes and her father. The thought that this gorgeous man might actually believe all the horrible lies the tabloids had printed about her stung more than she cared to admit. “Tell me, Spencer.”
He gave a one shoulder shrug, not meeting her eyes, his expression guilty. “A clone of your father, I guess. Charming, smart, shrewd. Not exactly trustworthy.”
Well, then.
“I’d like to contradict you on those points, but the irritating fact is they’re mainly true, except for the untrustworthy part. That one only applies to my father, at least where I’m concerned.” She’d learned a long time ago that being the only child of wife number three sure didn’t mean she rated high on Coran Williams’ list of priorities.
Spencer winced. “Touchy subject, eh?”
Toni frowned and looked away, concentrating on her fingernails and not his too-perceptive gaze. “Let’s just say when I was growing up, I’d be lucky to see him once a year, and even then half the time he no-showed or cancelled at the last minute. My dad might be a billionaire businessman, but he won’t be winning father-of-the-year awards any time soon.”
She took a deep breath then exhaled slow. “And now? What do you think after you’ve met me?”
“So far, I think you’re genuinely trying to do some good in the world and I have to respect that.” He leaned slightly to the side to peer across the hall into her old office. “You got the window fixed already?”