by Box Set
“Katie Jones. I live next door to Derek.” And she didn’t normally wear her hair in a wet, tangled mat around her head, but she didn’t make excuses for her bedraggled appearance. These men didn’t care. She reached out and shook Trevor’s hand, then did the same with Rob.
Not a single smidgeon of interest went through her at touching them, when all Derek had to do was look at her to make her tingle. Then again, he’d barely glanced at her today. As usual.
She really needed to get out there and start dating again, or she was going to die alone with her cat, Beru.
The men said their farewells and strode off to Derek’s condo while Katie and Mrs. Gomez continued their slow shuffle toward the Gomez’s unit.
“He’s sexy. If I were fifty years younger…” The elderly lady sighed.
“I’m telling Esteban you said that,” Katie teased.
Mrs. Gomez snorted. “He’s got a nurse coming twice a week to give me some time off, and you know he ogles her butt every time she bends over. He gets the nurse, I get the sailor. Fair is fair.”
“Sure. Fair is fair.” Katie wasn’t ever going to get the sailor in anything other than her wildest dreams, and she had serious doubts he even remembered her name.
But, hey, there was a nice trade-off for being the girl next door. She might slide under the radar, especially when it came to men, but that meant it didn’t matter if her hair was a mess or she was wearing a granny bathing suit under a T-shirt worn so thin it had a few holes in it. No one noticed anyway, and she didn’t mind not being noticed when she looked like hell.
Trevor took a quick peek over his shoulder at the retreating women, then slanted a look at Derek. “You were looking at that woman like you wanted to eat her up.”
The smooth lilt in Trevor’s voice made the muscles tense in Derek’s shoulders, and he gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to throttle his favorite cousin.
Of course, the next words out of Trevor’s mouth did nothing to improve the outlook on his health. “She kind of shrinks into the background—so not your type, man. But you could see right through that wet shirt she had on. Excellent rack.”
Yeah, Derek had noticed. He’d tried to talk himself out of being attracted to Katie, but it wasn’t working. He pivoted to face his cousin, stabbing a finger into the younger man’s chest. “Hit on her and I’ll kill you.”
Cocking a brow, Trevor’s grin faded to an expression of surprise. “It’s like that, huh?”
It wasn’t like anything, damn it. Derek didn’t bother making that protest. Instead, he stuck to plain facts. “She’s a nice girl. You’re not a nice man.”
His cousin snorted. “Neither are you.”
True enough. Trevor was a police detective and Derek was an ex-Navy SEAL who now worked as a security consultant. Neither of them were nice men. Nice men didn’t survive in their lines of work. “Why do you think I haven’t asked her out?”
Rob stepped into the conversation at that point. “When has that ever stopped you?”
“I have to live next door to her.” Derek took the single step up onto his patio and strode across the tiles to open his front door. He waved the other guys inside and locked up behind them.
“Right.” Rob nodded sagely. “Don’t crap where you eat.”
There was an attractive description of Derek trying to do the right thing and leave a nice woman alone. He’d seen the interest in her gaze, and had avoided her like the plague to stop himself from giving into the temptation. She was sweetness and light, and he was damaged goods dragging around the kind of emotional baggage that would screw up her rosy life. Because she was the type who’d try to save a man she cared about, and he was way beyond saving. Best to run like hell, for her sake.
His mother would probably say he could use a bit of sweetness and sunshine in his life, but he ignored the internal maternal voice.
He dropped the basketball in his hall closet and shut the door. Then he went to open his front windows to let the breeze in. “You had a reason for being here that had nothing to do with hassling me about my neighbor, yes?”
Rob had arrived in the middle of Trevor and Derek’s game of one-on-one, and it had quickly turned into a free-for-all. Rob was shorter than the other two men, but lightning fast, and had no shame in slamming an elbow in his opponent’s gut in order to steal the ball. The redhead nodded. “Yep. I need your help.”
Trevor scrubbed a hand over his nape, a wry grin quirking his lips. “There’s a sentence to send chills down a man’s spine. Run away, cuz.”
“Why bother?” Derek countered, jabbing a thumb in his friend’s direction. “Rob could track a ghost to hell and back. There’s nowhere to run and no place to hide.”
Though they hadn’t started out as friends—Rob had been a stand-in instructor while Derek was going through BUD/S training. He’d been the ruthless, relentless jackass who’d laughed while he’d made the entire class stand for hours in freezing cold water during Hell Week. Derek had hated him with the fire of ten thousand suns, and had been less than thrilled when he’d survived training to end up on SEAL Team Eight—Rob’s team. It was only then that Derek had come to appreciate the other man’s many skills, and his insistence on letting only the most determined make it into the Teams.
Derek headed for his kitchen. “Beer?”
“Love one.” Rob parked himself on a stool at the counter. “It’s been years since I needed to track anyone though. I think my wife prefers it that way.”
“How’s Janice?” It had been a real shock when Rob had taken early retirement from the Navy, returned to his and Derek’s mutual hometown, and married an elementary school teacher. Of course, that was when Derek was only a couple of years out of BUD/S training and couldn’t see anything in his future but being a SEAL. It was all he’d ever wanted to be.
Now, he didn’t know what he was. He was just…here. Using skills he’d picked up as a SEAL, but not really investing in a post-Navy career. He stopped himself from thinking about why that was. He had guests who didn’t need to see him dive down that particular bottomless pit of self-recrimination.
“Janice is good.” Rob waved his bottle in an expansive arch. “Hating one particular student in her class this year, who’s a spoiled bully with parents who make a lot of excuses about why they don’t actually parent their child.”
“Sounds like someone I’m going to have to end up arresting in a few years.” Trevor accepted the bottle Derek handed him and took a long swig.
“She might actually bake you a cake if you send her copies of the mug shots.” The corners of Rob’s eyes crinkled. “She makes a mighty fine cake, let me tell you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Trevor raised his beer in a toast. “I have a real sweet tooth.”
Derek propped his hip against the counter and popped the top off his own bottle. “What did you need help with?”
“My largest event of the year is next week—a science fiction convention—and I just had one of my most experienced guys break both legs in a motorcycle accident. I need a replacement.” Rob glanced at Trevor. “I’m chief of security over at the convention center.”
“And you need Derek to be a security guard for your event.” Trevor frowned. “Why not just hire a rent-a-cop?”
Rob sighed, suddenly looking tired. “This convention might be a huge moneymaker, but it’s also the hardest to secure, with a lot of opportunity for pickpockets, and my bosses are starting to worry that pickpocketing could turn into identity thefts. Which is what happened at a similar event on the east coast.”
Tapping a fingertip against the counter, Derek asked, “I’m not sure that answers Trevor’s question about rent-a-cops.”
“I’m already bringing in extra security guards, but I want a few experienced guys to be in the crowd rather than uniformed patrols.” Rob shrugged and spread his hands. “Huge shows of force scare people, and this is supposed to be a fun event for participants. My employers want people safe, not scared. They want to make sure we keep down t
he incidents of pickpocketing and do everything we can to avoid this turning into a cybercrime media story.”
The news crews would likely have a field day with something like that. Derek blew out a breath. “Is there any indication that you’d be dealing with anything more than some purse snatching?”
“Not so far, thank God. But this event is particularly hard to lock down.” Rob set an elbow on the counter, leaning forward. “This convention has an exhibitor hall with vendor booths where anyone can come in and purchase items, no ticket or ID required. Thieves take advantage of that, and usually target the most populated areas where it’s easy to blend in and get lost in the crowd.”
Derek dipped his chin in agreement. “Easier to jostle someone and not have them notice their wallet was taken.”
“Yes, exactly. This convention keeps growing in size each year. There’s been talk recently of it moving to a larger venue. My superiors do not want that to happen, and people getting robbed while they’re there might tip the balance in favor of moving because we can’t keep attendees safe. We’ll have several plain clothes security officers at the event, looking out for thieves, but I want a ringer.”
Trevor snorted and jerked a thumb at Derek. “He’s your ringer?”
Derek rolled his eyes and refused to rise to the bait. His cousin would love to get him bleating out a defense and make him sound like a pompous jerk bragging about the size of his…skills. Nope, not happening.
Rob decided to jump in and do the bragging for him. “This is what Derek does. He notices what no one else notices. He’s got a sixth sense about when something is off. It saved our team’s collective backside on more than one occasion.” He focused on Derek, a winning smile on his face. “What do you say—can you spare five days for an old buddy?”
The man was entirely too cheerful, and that made Derek suspicious. “There’s a catch.”
His old commander’s eyes widened and he exuded innocence. “Well, it’s important for you to blend into the crowd. This is basically undercover work.”
“Okay…”
“He means costumes, cuz.” Trevor hooted with laughter, almost dropping his beer. “Sci-fi conventions have all those people dressed up like Spock and Superwoman.”
A truly evil grin formed on Rob’s face. “Costumes are the best way to disguise you in plain sight, so no one gets antsy about why there are so many security guards.” He pursed his lips, oozing magnanimity. “The convention center will provide your costumes, naturally.”
On the one hand, Derek didn’t really want to play dress up. On the other hand, most of his career had been spent wearing what he was told to wear. This didn’t feel much different. One uniform was the same as any other. “Nothing that impedes my vision or makes it difficult to move. I need to see the thieves, and possibly chase him, her, or them down if I catch them in the act.”
“No problem.”
He motioned to his bare chest. “And I’m not going half naked either. Costumes that cover me.”
“Ah, you’re taking all the fun out of this.” Rob huffed out a breath, but he fought a smile. “You don’t seem to have a problem walking around half-naked right now.”
Derek scoffed. “I walked two hundred yards from the basketball court to my condo. You’re reaching.”
“Fine. I’ll put my assistant on it. She’ll email with any questions.”
“I trust my specifications will be relayed accurately.” He stabbed a finger at the older man, leveling a hard stare. “I don’t need this job.”
“But I need you to take it.” Rob nodded and waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Glad we understand each other.” Derek saluted his friend with his bottle.
Rising to his feet, Rob stretched. “You won’t have any issues with your other work?”
The work Derek did for the state capitol and a few other governmental organizations was freelance, identifying holes in their security, though they’d all offered to bring him on as more than a consultant repeatedly. He was going to have to figure out if he wanted to go after more clients and set up a legitimate security consulting firm or hire on permanently with the state government. He’d been drifting since he left the Navy, not wanting to commit to anything. Not wanting to face that he wasn’t a SEAL anymore, or why he’d decided to ring out.
Being freelance made it easy to help his friend out, so he focused on that. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Excellent. Thanks for the game and the beer. I’m heading home to my lovely wife.” He flashed a smug grin and turned for the exit. “Raspberry cheesecake for dessert and, no, you’re not invited. Get your own woman or learn how to cook for yourself.”
Both Forrester cousins stared at the door for a moment after it slammed shut behind Rob. Derek shook his head, affection winding through him. Classic Rob, yanking people’s chains just for the fun of it. And Derek had just agreed to work for him next week. He needed his head examined. Then again, if it weren’t for the older man watching his back, Derek would have been dead a couple of times over. Ah, well. It was only five days, right? He’d survived worse for a lot longer.
“He’s evil,” Trevor commented.
A short laugh burst from Derek. “Try having him dance around on top of a raft you’re carrying through deep sand after three days of no sleep.”
His cousin raised an eyebrow. “I stand by my previous statement.”
The sound of feminine laughter drifted through the open windows. Katie. She was the only woman in the building with that low, throaty timbre, which was so at odds with her good girl appearance. It was sad that he recognized his neighbor by her laugh, and even sadder that every time he heard it, he wondered if she’d use that same smoky tone in bed when she said his name.
“Man, you’ve got it worse than I thought.” Trevor studied him with something between amusement and pity on his face. “Maybe you should ask her out. They say opposites attract.”
Derek met his cousin’s gaze, and didn’t bother to argue. Yeah, he had a serious jones for Katie Jones. But he’d already decided not to do anything about it, so he switched topics. “You want to grab a burger for dinner, or do you have a date tonight?”
“Burger. My love life sucks lately.” Trevor shot a pointed glance at the window. “Not as bad as yours, though.”
Family…even when you loved them, you really wished it was legal to kill them. Derek snorted. “Just for that, you’re buying.”
Chapter Two
“Oooh, you look hot.”
The catcall might have been more offensive if it hadn’t come from a very dear, very straight, and very female friend. Katie finished hanging a few necklaces from a display in her booth before she turned to wag a finger. “Ms. Chang, that’s sexual harassment.”
“It’s only harassment if you didn’t enjoy it,” Michelle sang out as she strode up pulling a large dolly. She maneuvered it into the booth next to Katie’s, and began unloading boxes from it that were filled with the leather goods Michelle and her husband sold at conventions and fairs the same way Katie did with her handmade jewelry.
She executed a little twirl, then propped her hands on her hips, posing like the superheroine she’d dressed as. “This is a new one. I’ve never done Wonder Woman before.”
The outfit was skintight spandex, with red knee-high boots. Basically, it was something the Katie Jones most people knew would never wear. But, she wasn’t plain old Katie today—she was a confident, kickass superheroine. When she’d attended her very first San Diego Comic-Con in her teens, she’d found that wearing a costume freed her in ways nothing else ever had, letting her pretend to be someone a whole lot cooler than she actually was.
“I adore it,” Michelle enthused. “You really outdid yourself this time. Love the metal armbands and wrist cuffs you made—people are going to want a piece of that. You’re a walking advertisement for your jewelry.”
“Here’s hoping it nets me a few extra sales when I parade myself past the food trucks.” Kat
ie tucked her empty crates under the booth and made sure they weren’t sticking out past the tablecloth in front. The cuffs made it awkward to bend her wrists, but she’d manage for the day.
Her friend snorted as she efficiently set up her displays of leather corsets, purses, messenger bags, and an assortment of clothing items than any cosplayer would geek out over. “Here’s hoping the cleavage nets you a few extra dates with cute men.”
“You just want to live vicariously because you’re happily married.” Some people might say Katie was too fat to dress up as a character as scantily clad as Wonder Woman, but this was one of the few areas in her life where she was willing to flip the bird to naysayers. If anyone had a problem with her outfit, they could look the other way. However, most of the teenage boys here would just ogle her breasts and the girls would coo over her custom bling. It was rare for her to have issues with body-shaming at cons.
“True, I do miss dating.” Her friend sighed dramatically. “I need to have Larry take me out soon—I gotta hit my mom up for babysitting.”
Katie grinned. “I’d offer, but you guys live two hours away.”
“It’s a shame you don’t live closer. We only see you when we’re working.” Michelle walked around to inspect her table, then nodded her satisfaction.
“I’m going to grab some food before they open the exhibitor’s hall.” Katie glanced at the large clock on the wall and groaned. “Twenty minutes is tight though. Maybe I’ll just eat the granola bars I have in my purse.”
“I think that’s my cue.” Michelle’s husband dodged between other vendors hurrying to set up. He carried a stack of flat Styrofoam food containers.
“Larry, you have exquisite timing.” Katie smiled at the lanky blond, who towered over his petite wife.
Despite his imposing height, Larry Anderson was the most laidback man ever born. Except when it came to his food. He glanced back and then stepped aside to allow someone to pass him.
It was a middle-aged woman wearing a bright headscarf and balancing three travel cups in her hands.