“Roman, the guy who’ll be driving for you and Sophia, is a retired detective and close family friend. I want you to utilize him and his connections as you need. Though I understand Mr. Smith isn’t lacking in that department, it might come in handy to have someone running alongside.”
Blayze nodded; he had yet to find a department where Sutton lacked, save decorum at times, not that high society would ever see that side.
“Two-and-a-half years ago, my wife was killed in a rollover car accident.” Mr. Vasco’s accent was different from his daughter’s, more of a roll on the r-sounds. “It was deemed an accident by officials, but Roman and I have had our doubts from the beginning, mainly because of the tire marks at the scene. If Camila had fallen asleep at the wheel, they wouldn’t have found tire marks indicating a sudden jerk of the wheel.”
“Unless she woke up and panicked,” Sophia mumbled from her office chair.
“That’s possible too,” Nicolas said, “just not probable, in my opinion.” He kept his head angled toward Blayze, but his eyes shifted to his daughter. “Sophia hasn’t wanted to accept that her mother’s accident might have been malicious, but the last package she received all but spelled it out. I assume that since you just lost your own mother, you can understand how painful accepting something like that would be…”
“Of course.” Blayze glanced toward her desk. Sophia’s head was down, eyes fixed on the papers before her, but just as he pulled his gaze away, Blayze caught the woman wiping moisture from her cheek. A hot ache pricked his chest as Mr. Vasco continued.
“At this point, I’m sure we can all agree that we’re dealing with the man who killed mi esposa amada, my most beloved wife. And that means he won’t hesitate to kill again.” The intensity in the man’s eyes increased as he leaned in. “I don’t expect you two to be literally joined at the hip, but you do need to stay close. Each penthouse we booked for you will have weights and a workout bench so that you can keep up with your daily regimen without leaving Sophia alone for predictable amounts of time.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” Sutton was always good at requesting perks like that; mainly because it emphasized the type of physically fit and disciplined team he’d assembled.
“I was assured you’d be carrying at all times,” Nicolas said.
“That’s right.” A Beretta M9 and a Smith and Wesson revolver were among the list of weapons he carried on the job.
“And that you’re a good shot.”
Blayze resisted an onslaught of images confirming that very thing. Blood splattering in response to the pull of his trigger. “Yes.”
“I believe in this judicial system, Mr. Brockton, make no mistake. Ideally, we settle things through the law. But if worst comes to worst….” He drifted off there, staring off for a blink before resuming that poised posture. “Well, we’re understood then.”
“Yes, sir,” Blayze said with a nod. “Understood.” That explained why he’d gone to Sutton Smith.
Blayze let the new information simmer as he waited for Sophia to finish up. Upon her father’s departure, she hadn’t so much as acknowledged the interaction. Simply stayed busy with her papers one moment, a laptop the next, and her phone as well. Blayze took notes on the new details he’d received and considered what he’d like the private investigative team to focus on. It was easy enough to work in comfortable silence, but each time Sophia picked up that phone, the sound of her voice distracted him. Sexy was the only word for it. Low and smooth. That accent rolling off her tongue.
“All right…” Sophia mumbled a while later, coming to a stand. “Ready for food?” She straightened her skirt before tossing a purse strap over one shoulder.
Blayze came to his feet. “Whenever you are.”
“Fabuloso. I am seriously starving.” She led the way through the crowded corridor, breezing past suits in business blue and politician grey.
“Hey, Sophia. Your dad’s on top by thirteen percent,” an older gentleman announced.
“That’s what I like to hear,” she hollered over her shoulder.
Jane, the eager intern, shot to a stand as they entered the main work center. “Hey, are you guys grabbing lunch?” Boxes and whiteboards surrounded a line of makeshift desks. Stacks of paper, rolls of stamps, and an endless supply of Re-elect Vasco for District Attorney-labeled pens littered the surface. The girl’s cronies, busy at either side of her, glanced up with wide eyes.
“Yeah, can we go with you?” the one named Frank asked.
Sophia tilted her head, seeming to weigh the option as a kid in a deli apron walked by with a notepad.
“Tell them to order lunch here,” Blayze suggested. “I think it’s best that we talk privately today.”
Sophia stopped walking, leaned slowly back until the side of her forehead rested a mere inch from his lips. He stilled, waiting for her to speak while her sweet, tropical scent swirled in the small space.
“They’re just kids,” she said. “They’ll let us talk amongst ourselves.” Her tone was more casual than testing.
“Not today,” he said.
The chaos slowed in one corner of the room. Blayze glanced over to see they’d gained a small audience where her father stood, a swarm of suits surrounding him. With his eyes set on Sophia, the polished man tipped his chin the slightest bit, seeming to say something with the nod. He cleared his throat then, nudged a gentleman by his side. The chaos picked up once more.
“How about we catch lunch next time?” Sophia hollered to the interns. “Gustav is here taking sandwich orders—the DA’s treat.” And with that, Sophia hurried out of the room.
Blayze considered the interaction as he trailed after her, catching the District Attorney’s gaze along the way. Perhaps he was worried over his daughter’s cooperation; as far as Blayze could tell, there wouldn’t be an issue.
Yet, before he could rest his mind on that alone, another concern surfaced; one that might not be dismissed so easily: There was chemistry between he and Sophia Vasco. Undeniably. Blayze, like any man, knew a good-looking woman when he saw one. But he didn’t determine his type based on physical features. It’d never boiled down to anything as simple as blonde or brunette. It took a complicated list of traits to draw him in. Things that went beyond the surface. Strong and independent. Compassionate and smart. Sophisticated and witty. At a glance, those traits seemed to define Sophia Vasco to a T. Add to that her stunning appearance, not to mention the effect her voice had on him, and Blayze could wind up falling fast.
Of course, he couldn’t be certain the attraction went both ways, and even if it did… that didn’t mean she’d be willing to act on it. Which was good, he reminded himself. Blayze wouldn’t act on anything either under the conditions. He needed to stay focused on his job and nothing else.
At that determination, Blayze pulled open the glass doors leading to the dark parking lot. One of those multi-story cement numbers that kept the sun out. “This way,” he said, motioning to his Land Rover. Black with tinted windows made from bulletproof glass; an upgrade Sutton provided to each SEAL who accepted the job. Something he no-doubt mentioned to Nicolas Vasco. Tomorrow as they hit the campaign trails, Roman would drive; today they were on their own.
Sophia marched in the direction he’d indicated, but the determined force of her steps reeked of irritation. It wasn’t until he pulled open the passenger side door that she spoke up. “De ninguna manera. This isn’t going to work,” she said. “I can’t have someone opening my doors for me all the time like we’re on some never-ending date, okay?”
Blayze glanced down at the way his fingers curled around the edge of the door as she climbed in, using the handle to hoist herself onto the seat.
“Fine by me.” He released the door without closing it. A short stride around the back of the vehicle allowed him to check for anything suspicious; an afterthought with how ticked off he was by her annoying comment. He slammed his own door after climbing in behind the wheel.
“I’m sorry,” she sa
id as he yanked the buckle over his lap. “This is going to take some getting used to. I don’t like being coddled or feeling dependent on someone to do things for me.” She shook her head, kept her gaze on the flat of her skirt as she smoothed a hand over it.
“No problem,” Blayze said. “You and I obviously view the gesture a lot differently.”
“Yeah,” Sophia agreed. Still, she kept her gaze off him. Looking at the dashboard. The rearview. Then back to her skirt where she traced a finger over her knee through the fabric.
Man, she wasn’t easy to figure out, that much was sure. Blayze cleared his throat. “Where to?”
That got her to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, a laugh small in her throat. “Don’t you read minds?”
He grinned. “Not yet.” Though his team often joked he could do that very thing.
Her shoulders dropped as she sank back in the seat and sighed. “Do you like Indian food? I’ve been craving curry all week long.”
“Indian food sounds good to me.” With a sting of residing irritation, Blayze added something on to his mental list of to-dos, right under keep Sophia Vasco safe at all costs. Something that seemed to be of equal importance to her: remember not to open her door.
Chapter 5
Sophia wasn’t used to being around quiet men. Politicians weren’t exactly known to be the strong, silent type. If she intimidated easily, Blayze would be the guy to unnerve her. Luckily, she didn’t.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Vasco,” Mr. Reddy said as they stepped into the colorful restaurant. “Just the two of you today?”
“Yes, Mr. Reddy. Thank you.”
They followed the robed man to a booth Sophia had eaten in several times before. “Will this suffice?” he asked, resting the menus on the table.
Sophia nodded, lips poised for her standard yes, thank you, when Blayze spoke up.
“Would you mind if we sat along the back wall, please?”
Mr. Reddy grabbed the menus with a nod. “Not at all.”
Sophia worked to shed the agitation stirring within her. The window aisle might be busy, but it wasn’t as if the guests weren’t minding their own business. The chatter among the other patrons would drown out any conversation they had.
Still, she curled her lips into a smile as they scooted into the booth. Once Mr. Reddy had left them to consider the menu, Sophia ran a finger down the entrées. “I didn’t realize you wanted such an intimate setting,” she said under her breath. “If I’m not mistaken, they have a private room we could have all to ourselves if you’d like.” She leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Pull the curtain and we’d become invisible.”
Blayze merely glanced at her, not so much as a storm cloud in those blue eyes. “No, thank you.” He snapped the menu closed and pushed it away. “I know what I’d like to order.”
Sophia let out one short chuckle. “You’re kidding. You barely even looked at the menu.”
“I only like the bread,” he mumbled.
“The naan?”
He nodded.
She pinched her chin. “Adventuresome, aren’t we?” She set her eyes back on the menu, her gaze darting between her two favorite options. If she got both, she could take the leftovers home. Or see if her father wanted them. It was settled then. Anika came to the table and took their orders.
Blayze really did stick to the naan, nothing else. Except for a Pepsi, that is; that alone made him more relatable somehow.
“Glad it’s not too hot today,” Sophia said, sinking into the booth with a sigh. She kicked her shoes off under the table and twisted her ankles in slow clockwise motions, one after the next.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions now, if that’s okay.” Blayze pulled a notebook from a thin backpack he wore. It resembled a holster from the front, and Sophia guessed it held more than school supplies.
“Of course,” she said. “Ask away.”
He drafted a circle in the center of the page. “Is it just you, or are you dating someone?”
She fought the urge to lift an insinuative brow. Something about the guy’s serious nature sparked that playful side of her. “I’m single.”
He scribbled a small S in the center of the circle he’d drawn and put a box around it. “And your mother passed two-and-a-half years ago.”
“Yes,” she answered. “The day before Easter.”
With his head lowered over the notepad, Blayze looked up at her through his lashes. Sophia had always liked the lighting here, the way the bright, yellowed bulbs shimmered off the rich fabrics draped along the walls. But as the light hit Blayze’s blue eyes, it seemed to spark an odd flame somewhere in her chest. So piercing. Or maybe it was his expression. “For the record,” he said, voice low and husky. “I can see why you didn’t want to believe there was foul play in her death. I’m sure you’re still adjusting to that whole… revelation.”
He was right. She nodded, grateful for the acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
“Your father hasn’t remarried?”
“No. I don’t imagine he ever will. He’s still in love with my madre.” She recalled the way Papa’s campaign manager, Isabella, spoke to her father recently. More playful and familiar. Would he ever entertain having a relationship with her?
Blayze scratched an F next to Sophia’s S. She assumed it represented her father.
“Brothers? Sisters?”
She shook her head. “No. My parents struggled with infertility. They thought about adopting but they never did.”
He nodded, drew a few lines out of the circle and began asking about friends. Co-workers. Ex-boyfriends. Anyone she’d dated in the last three years. Sophia listed the five guys she’d gone out with over that time, and Blayze scribbled their names at the bottom corner of the page, first and last name.
“Oh,” she blurted, remembering one more. “Connor Kinsworthy.”
He glanced up. “You dated the mayor’s son?”
She nodded. “Yep.” Sophia smeared the single word with pride, but more on his father’s merits than his own.
“From when to when?”
“Last year,” she said. “I think from May to July.”
Blayze grimaced as he scribbled Conner’s name to the list.
“What?” Sophia asked.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, but a smile pulled at one corner of his lips.
“No,” she persisted. “Do you know him?”
“He tried joining the Navy the same time I did. Didn’t last more than a month.”
“Huh. He didn’t make it past training?”
“Nope.”
Anika came with their food. Sophia watched as she took in the pompous way Blayze had said what he had. “Not everyone’s cut out for it,” she said.
Blayze thanked Anika before shooting Sophia a pointed glance. “I couldn’t agree more.”
That sparked even more irritation. “Well, he’s probably going into politics now, like his father,” she said, straightening her shoulders when glancing at the spread. The rich, savory aroma was distracting her already. Which was a good thing, since Blayze seemed to be done with the topic as well.
They ate in silence for a moment or two. Sophia sampling both the chicken tikka masala and the palak paneer. “So, is that map thing something you learned in training?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s just a map I designed that… works the way my brain does, I guess.”
She ran her eyes over the jumbled map of circles, squares, initials and codes. It looked like a chaotic mess. “Hmm,” she only offered before taking another bite. “Have you ever tried these sauces before?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
He looked at her, a torn chunk of flat bread in one hand.
“Dip it,” she urged. “It’s good.”
Blayze surprised her by straightening his arm over the table and hovering the bread above her food. “Which one?” he asked.
&
nbsp; She pointed to the masala.
“The orange one?” His face scrunched up like a little kid’s.
Sophia couldn’t help but laugh. “Trust me.”
“All those years eating overseas and I never touch the stuff,” he mumbled. “Get me across from Ms. Vasco and she’s got me sampling food that barely looks edible.” He dunked a corner of the naan, dragged it across the edge of the dish, and brought it to his mouth.
Sophia stared at him in suspense, oddly satisfied that she’d gotten him to try it. “Well?”
He nodded. “That’s actually pretty good.”
She grinned, more gratified than she wanted to admit. “Please,” she said, sliding the dish to the center and nodding toward it. “I got two dishes for a reason.”
He dipped another chunk into the orange sauce, eyeing the green dish with a wary brow.
“Feeling brave?” she asked.
Blayze shook his head, dunked in the masala again.
Sophia reached over the table and gave his forearm a pat. “You’ve had enough for today, little padawan.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, straightening up and attending to his notebook once more. He flipped the page, rested the rather-dull tip of his pencil on a fresh sheet. “Let’s talk about your schedule this week.”
Sophia tugged her planner from her large purse and rested it on the table. It contrasted Blayze’s messy mind map in every way. Straight lines, neat print, and as organized as a planner could be. She gave him a breakdown of her schedule. Tonight was the only night she’d be home this week. First thing tomorrow morning, they would head straight to California State University. The press would be there, along with thousands of anxious attendees.
“It’s likely that not one thing I say will get on the news, with all of the other elections going on right now, but I have to be prepared. If I mess up or say something wrong, they’re guaranteed to use that. Especially the news stations that support my father’s opponent. Sometimes I get the impression my one job isn’t to hit it out of the park, rather to keep from fouling, if you know what I mean.”
The Honorable Warrior Page 3