by Eve Langlais
The blind date wasn’t happening here in the city but in another state under the guise of her ferreting out some property information for the company—Bad Boy Inc. dealt in real estate around the world. In the process of packing her things, the phone rang.
“Yello,” Kacy answered, knowing it would drive her mama nuts.
“When will you learn to answer the phone properly? It is h-ell-o,” her mother enunciated, and yet it did nothing to eliminate her heavy Mexican accent.
“How are you, Mama?” Kacy asked, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she held up a filmy negligee. Baby blue and practically sheer enough to see through.
“Fine. But that man was back again.”
“What man?” A frown knitted Kacy’s brow as she stuffed the silky item into her suitcase. Her new suitcase since, apparently, her duffel bag, repaired with duct tape, wouldn’t do for the trip.
“Did I not mention him? Forget it.”
“Mama!” Kacy put a warning tone in the word. “What’s going on? What man keeps coming by?”
“I don’t know his name, but he says Tito owes him money.”
Dear brother Tito, who had a thing for not paying his debts. “Did you tell him to bother Tito for it?” Which wouldn’t work so well given Tito was doing six months for possession. Again.
“I did. But he was quite insistent. Said someone had to pay.”
And that someone wouldn’t be either of her brothers because God forbid they take responsibility for their actions. Rubbing at the knot forming between her eyes, Kacy sighed. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll handle it.” Actually, Harry would have to take care of it since he was sending her out of town. But then again, given they’d talked about handling the drug problem in town during their meeting today, perhaps that would work in everyone’s favor.
To think she’d hoped by moving her mother out here she could avoid the problems in their old town.
If only she’d managed to keep her brothers from following. But Mama was too nice to them. She’d let them know her new address instead of taking Kacy’s suggestion that involved pretending they’d both died.
“Listen, I’ve got to go away for a few days.” Possibly weeks, but she didn’t mention that.
“Are you finally taking a vacation?” Mama said hopefully.
As if. “It’s for work. I’m flying out to Miami in the morning to check out the specs on a property.”
“Take a bathing suit and go for a swim in the ocean. The salt water is good for your skin.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have time for that, Mama.” Kacy took little time for herself. In her world, it was all about the job.
“Make time. You work too hard.”
So had her mother until Kacy stepped in. “I’ll try, Mama.” And then because she knew it would please her mom, even if it wasn’t true, she added, “I’m going on a date.”
“With a man?” The words were screeched.
“Yes, a man,” she said with a grin no one could see. “But don’t get too excited. My boss and his wife set it up since they have a friend who lives out there. I doubt we’ll hit it off.”
“Did you pack something nice?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That doesn’t have holes?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Mama. Sherry and I went shopping for some new things.” And because she knew her mother would love it, she added, “We got some dresses.”
“Dios!” Her mother lapsed into Spanish and then remembered herself. “I mean, that is nice. Don’t let him sweet-talk you into doing stuff. I don’t care whose friend he is.”
“Don’t worry, Mama.” Kacy had a firm grasp of the word no.
That word was what had led to her whole life changing and how she’d met Harry.
Never would she forget that moment. Always tough, at fifteen, Kacy had thought herself rather invincible. As a bit of a tomboy, she had no time for the things other girls indulged in. She eschewed the makeup and slutty clothes meant to draw attention. Kacy lived in her worn jeans and T-shirts. As for bras, the stupid things hurt, so she refused to wear them. Not to say she wasn’t cute. Kacy had her share of good looks. Boys hit on her all time, and she blew them off.
But that changed one day after school when a gang of boys surrounded her on the sidewalk. Only teenagers themselves, many had already become neighborhood thugs, but Kacy didn’t fear them. These were kids she’d grown up around, guys who ran with her brothers and cousins.
Despicable pigs, who thought they could bargain her virginity for cash.
“Where you going, puta? I got something for you.” A grab at the crotch brought laughs from his buddies.
She could still see every one of their tanned, leering faces. The dark hair slicked back on some, shaved on others. Not seriously believing them at first—that type of thing happened to other girls, not Kacy—she tried to push her way through them, but they’d formed a tight ring.
“Get out of my way.” She still recalled her defiant demand. A request they wouldn’t listen to.
“How much do you think we could charge for the puta?” A hand reached out to tug the hair she kept in a ponytail.
She slapped at it. “I’m not for sale. Go bother someone else.”
“Mouthy bitch. You won’t be talking much once you have a cock shoved in your mouth.”
The crude threat brought fear, an anxiety she hated to admit. “My brothers—”
“Will do as they’re told, or we’ll cut them like we cut Jorge.”
They were the ones who’d put Jorge, a gentle kid who dared to get straight As, in the hospital?
She couldn’t help but succumb a little to the panic, especially as the boys pushed in closer, grabbing at her. Touching her.
They touched me in places that were private.
She’d slapped at their hands. Kicked.
But they’d slapped her back.
Tore at her clothing.
She couldn’t help but call out for help. No one replied. In the barrio, people didn’t like to get involved, especially against the gangs.
Hot tears of shame bled down her cheeks as they kept attacking her.
And then they were the ones crying out as a man, a gringo in a suit who used only his fists, taught the boys a lesson.
When the leader of the gang, Pablo, pulled his knife, the man, a grin on his face, pulled out a bigger one and said, “Would you like to die quickly or slowly?”
Apparently, Pablo didn’t want to die at all. He ran off with the others.
Much as Kacy appreciated the actions of her savior, she couldn’t help but moan as they scattered, “You do realize once you leave, they’ll be back.” Back with a vengeance.
“Then you should leave.”
“And go where?” she exclaimed.
“What if I gave you a way to escape this life? To become something more? Someone who can fight against the thugs in this world?”
Kacy had thought he joked with her. No one could fight the gangs, and yet there was something in the man’s eyes. Something that indicated he meant every word he said. So, she’d brought him home.
More like he’d insisted on following her and then spoke to her mama.
It didn’t do any good. As if Mama would listen to the gringo in his suit when he claimed he wanted to help send Kacy away to a boarding school. A school for special children.
“Is that what they call the whorehouses now?” her mother had spat, not trusting him at all.
“I assure you, the school is real,” he’d said. He claimed he could prove it.
Who would pay for it?
The school would subsidize Kacy’s education, which seemed even more suspicious.
Why would anyone give Kacy a scholarship based on a meeting on a sidewalk?
Kacy didn’t trust the offer either. Yet the man had left them with money—enough for her mother to pay the rent and buy some food. He also left his card. A card that Mama wouldn’t touch, as if by touching it she would a
ccept the deal. A deal she was convinced came from the devil.
The following morning, the bruises on Kacy’s body had blossomed, and even worse, outside the window, she and Mama could see the boys waiting for her to come out.
As for her brothers, they didn’t come home.
The cowards.
The cops wouldn’t get involved. No one would get involved.
Despite Kacy’s assertion that she would be fine, with a sigh, Mama picked up the phone and dialed.
Later that day, after her first plane ride, Kacy was ushered into a room at the academy. Her own room. With a door. And a lock. She could call her mama every night. She got food three times a day. A snack whenever she wanted one, and an allowance to use on the weekends.
But all that paled in comparison to what they taught her.
They gave Kacy a new life, a better life, and while they tried to convince her to leave her old one behind, on that, she remained firm. While she wanted nothing to do with her brothers, she wouldn’t abandon her mother. Mama didn’t deserve to lose her baby girl.
And her savior, the man who saved her that day?
A younger Harry. Now her boss and the owner of Bad Boy Inc., specialists in international realty. And the man she owed everything to.
During her time at the Secundus Academy—a top-secret place that took students by special invitation only—Harry had checked in on her. He’d become like a father to her, and it became important that she show him her appreciation by doing well at the academy, a school that drove her hard. So hard, that, at times, she wanted to quit.
But she didn’t. Kacy persevered, excelled in many areas, and graduated. Harry could lie all he wanted about the dust in the air. She saw the tears of pride shining in his eyes when she’d gotten her diploma.
Pride wasn’t the only reason she worked hard, though. She wanted something better for herself.
The school didn’t just save her life. It gave her a future that didn’t involve slopping food in a restaurant, hoping INS didn’t deport her. It prevented her from being sold on the streets or having to date a guy in a gang just for protection. With the academy’s help, she’d not only gotten skills that got her hired by Bad Boy Inc., she’d also become a legal citizen, as had her mother.
She owed everything to the academy and Harry. Maybe, someday, she’d write a book about it. Except when she did put it into words, she might omit the part about her being nervous for a simple bodyguard job.
The flight itself to Miami didn’t bother her. Harry booked her in business class, so she had legroom and used the time to nap. The hotel room the company reserved for her was nice. Nicer than she would have booked if left to her own devices. Why did she need a suite when just a room with a bed would do?
She spent that first day on the ground, maintaining her cover by visiting city hall to pull surveys and information on the history of the property she’d supposedly come to check out. A property owned by the city and left derelict. No one wanted it, not even the homeless. She poked around the dusty building that stood one step away from being condemned, on a piece of land in the middle of nowhere, and had to wonder why anyone would want it.
Bad Boy Inc. certainly didn’t. So she felt no qualms about sending them a report about the unsuitability of it just before she showered for her blind date.
Date.
Ha. When was the last time she’d gone on one of those? She didn’t have the time, or patience, to deal with the small talk and dance that went with getting to know a man.
It explained why she spent most of her evenings alone.
The butterflies didn’t start until she had to slide on one of those slick new dresses, which she then immediately took off.
It’s too fancy.
Yet, what else could she wear? Sherry had told her to dress up. Apparently, the restaurant where she’d meet her client—ahem, her fake date—was high-end. That meant a dress code that probably didn’t include ragged jeans.
Suck it up, bambina. What was wrong with her that she feared wearing a dress? She had ragged shorts at home that showed off more of her ass when she gardened.
With a sigh, she wiggled back into the little cocktail dress—tight on the top but loose on the bottom—but she drew the line at the handful of skimpy panties in her suitcase, opting instead for some boy-short underpants. New ones, she might add. They would keep her papaya covered in case she had to do things ladies shouldn’t do in short skirts. She couldn’t ditch the dress shoes, but she derived some satisfaction in knowing that the thick heels held some gadgets in case she ran into a situation.
Her holster sat high on her thigh, the material specially made so as not to chafe, but it took some adjusting to walk naturally with it. Thankfully, the skirt had enough material and pleats to hide it. Her slim knife in its sheath was slid between her breasts and clipped to the plunging v-neckline of her bodice so that it appeared she wore a glittery broach. A present from Harry.
Her small purse held the necessities: a slim wallet with ID and cash, a compact, lip gloss, cell phone, and a charging cube with a green light. The hairclip pinning up her hair to the side—one that could disassemble in a moment into a set of lock picks—completed the ensemble.
For her makeup, she kept it simple, using a dark shadow to give her eyes a smoky effect, a light blush to the cheeks, and bright red for her lips. She chose to keep her long hair loose and mostly down, the clip being the only thing she used. The final piece to her look was giant hoop earrings. The only truly girly thing that Kacy allowed herself day-to-day, and the one item in her repertoire that didn’t turn into a tool of the trade or a weapon.
During the cab ride to the restaurant, she worried that her makeup would melt off her face as she sweated from the humidity and nerves. So stupid, especially since if she was given a mission involving face paint, a swamp, and an assassination, Kacy could handle it without a qualm. Send her on a fake date at some fancy-pants restaurant, and she was ready to turn tail and run.
I don’t know if this job is worth the price.
Led to her table by a snooty dude in a suit, Kacy felt like an imposter in the fancy restaurant. White linen draped the tables. Candles, fat ones sitting in glass votive holders, flickered. The waiters held themselves straight and seemed aloof. Even snobbier clientele pretended to not see the staff that refilled wineglasses and removed empty plates.
This place is snooty central. And she was the pretender amidst them.
Seeing the tiny portions of foods being served on small plates, she had to wonder if it would be any good. Harry had explained during his briefing that the restaurant where she’d meet the client had some kind of Michelin star. She wasn’t sure what tires had to do with food, but her boss had sounded impressed. Kacy, on the other hand, wanted to fidget and check to make sure her skirt wasn’t tucked into her underpants.
When it came to places such as this, girls like Kacy usually worked in the kitchen or as waitstaff. A Latina from the wrong part of town certainly didn’t sit in the dining room as a patron—unless she was paid to do so. There was a name for those kinds of girls.
Did the patrons look at her and assume she was a whore? Probably. The things she did for work. Like wearing a damned bra. Horribly confining thing.
Kacy tried not to scowl too much as she followed the dude who insisted on guiding her to her table. Harry would ream her out if she busted her cover before she even began. Stupid sexist mission. Posing as some rich hombre’s girlfriend because he was scared of getting his pansy ass shot off.
Other than the man’s name, Harry refused to tell her much about the guy, claiming their meeting and getting to know each other had to look authentic to anyone watching. Hence the blind date setup.
The whole thing stank, except for her. She’d showered and deodorized. She’d also shaved her legs, but she drew the line at getting a Brazilian. There was no man, client or not, that was getting a peek at those goods.
Seated, she waited, drumming the table with her fingertips, p
ainted a seashell pink because Sherry had insisted—they matched her toes. Although, as Kacy had told Sherry just because she knew it would make her laugh, “Ain’t no man going to see them if I put them around his ears.”
A deep voice rumbled at her back. “You must be Kacy.”
It took her by surprise because she was seated at the rear of the restaurant and had been watching the front.
Bloody client had decided to pop in from the rear. Sly.
Standing, she turned and beheld a chest. A really wide chest covered in a snowy white shirt. She had to look up, even in her heels, and she noted a craggy face, piercing eyes, and lips pulled taut in displeasure.
“Yeah, I’m Kacy.”
“You’re awfully small,” was the first mistake he made. The second was to loom even closer, crowding Kacy.
A man who liked to intimidate? She’d known her fair share and knew how to handle them, too.
Kacy pressed into him and smiled—as her hand tucked between their bodies and squeezed his balls in a vise. “Call me small again, and I’ll make sure you sing soprano for life.”
Because this pint-sized killer didn’t take shit from nobody.
Chapter Three
“I don’t suppose you’d mind letting go of Marcus?” Darren stepped around him and smiled at the tiny Latina.
Obviously, his boss wasn’t the one getting his nuts crushed into a pulp.
“You’re lucky I don’t hit girls,” Marcus grumbled.
“No, you’re lucky my boss said to play nice.” She released him and patted Marcus on the cheek before turning to Darren. “Next time, don’t be a dick.” She turned a smile on his boss. “You must be Darren. So nice to meet you.”
“And you.” Darren clasped her hand and widened his grin.
Marcus wanted to hit something. Especially since his nuts still throbbed, and from a girl who didn’t even reach his chin.
This is who they sent to protect Darren? He remained less than impressed.
About a lot of things.
This whole blind date idea didn’t sit well. Grown men, especially successful ones, didn’t go on blind dates, even if set up by a trusted friend. Yet, what other cover could be used for Darren to meet this girl who would act as his girlfriend slash bodyguard until the threat was eliminated?