by Eve Langlais
“Do something about what?” Darren asked, stepping from the house before exclaiming, “What the fuck happened to the car?”
“This idiot somehow managed to blow up my suitcase,” she exclaimed. “I thought I told you to be careful with my cans of aerosol. Do you know how expensive beauty products are nowadays?” She tossed her hair before sashaying back into the house.
Darren followed, which meant Marcus brought up the rear.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll buy you some new stuff.”
Was it her, or did Marcus gag behind her?
“Maybe I should just go home.” Kacy sighed loudly. “I mean, all I’ve got is this.” She held up the bag containing the mishmash of clothes.
“No way, baby. We’re just getting to know each other and starting to have fun. Stay with me awhile.”
“What about your trip?” Kacy whined. “I thought you had to leave in a day or so on business.”
“I do, but I don’t want to be apart from you.”
“Oh, cariño, I feel the same way.” She batted her eyelashes and saw Marcus make a moue of distaste. She wondered if Marcus understood they were playacting. Would he know to play his part? Did he finally understand that it wasn’t just paranoia that made Kacy do and say the things she did? Hopefully, the fact that someone was willing to slip a bomb into her luggage—ruining all my shit, the fuckers—would finally smarten him up.
“Gag me with a spoon,” Marcus said.
“I was talking to Darren, not you, meathead.” She glared at him, hands on her hips.
“Now, baby.” Darren put an arm around her waist, and she fought not to recoil. She didn’t like people in her space. “Be nice to Marcus. He’s just doing his job.”
“His job should be acting nicer to me.” Nice, like how he’d taken the brunt of the fall on the mat and then allowed himself to become vulnerable because he couldn’t stop staring at her tits?
“My job is to guard his ass, not yours.” Marcus glared at her.
“See what I mean?” Her lower lip jutted, and she wanted to gag herself for acting like such a petulant brat.
“Ignore him. He’s always grumpy. I know what will make you smile. The invitation I got for my trip said I could bring a guest.”
“Are you asking me?” She presented a coy smile, fully aware that one of the staff was just off the front hall, probably listening.
“Come with me.”
“But I have nothing to wear.” The classic reply of any woman.
“I have a friend. I’ll have her deliver some stuff this afternoon.”
“Why can’t we go shopping ourselves?” She already knew why, because going out at this point would be too dangerous.
Darren waggled his brows. “Because I’ve got other plans for you.”
She couldn’t help but note the grimace on Marcus’s face. Did this fake act bother him, too? She knew he didn’t like her. Did he worry that somehow Darren would fall for her?
He needn’t fear. Darren didn’t appeal to her at all. His bodyguard, though…
With a giggle, she left Marcus behind, skipping up the stairs, squealing as Darren chased her right into his bedroom. Only once the door was shut and she’d done a quick check with her compact did the smile drop from her lips.
“While you’re calling for a new wardrobe, I need to call Harry.”
“You going to report what happened?”
“Yeah, and I need to put in an order for some more supplies.” Because shit had just gotten serious. Blow up her luggage with her favorite t-shirt, would they?
Time for her to get her hands on some bigger guns. Now, it was personal.
Chapter Eleven
As Kacy acted like a young woman in lust, bouncing and giggling, Marcus gagged for real. The simpering woman he’d just had to endure wasn’t the real Kacy. Funny how this version of her didn’t attract him at all.
Shoot me now. I like it better when she’s acting mean toward me.
He preferred it when she stood toe to toe and harangued him.
I think I’m a sadomasochist. Because, apparently, he enjoyed abuse.
Kacy and Darren ran out of sight, yet Marcus didn’t immediately follow. The rational part of him realized they were going to his room so they could discuss more of the plan. But the jealous part of him…
Yeah, that part wanted to punch Darren out.
Rather than do or say something unfortunate, he remained on the main floor so that he could take care of the now ruined car. Getting it fixed wouldn’t be a problem. After his years of service with Darren, Marcus knew people, the kind who didn’t ask questions—and would install a rocket launcher if only Darren would agree.
Maybe now that the car had blown up, Darren would understand the importance of decking out the car superhero style.
Once that was taken care of, Marcus spent the rest of the day roaming the house, noting things he’d never thought of before, such as how the French doors to the patio were rarely locked.
Added to a list of entries that needed better security.
The fridge didn’t have a lock. Anyone could access the food inside.
Perhaps he should have a mini bar stocked upstairs just in case.
There was more staff milling about inside than seemed necessary. Hadn’t they just vacuumed that hall the day before? Surely, Darren and Marcus didn’t create that much dirt.
Suddenly paranoid, he sent the cleaning staff home. Told them to take a week’s vacation, paid. It made a handful fewer people in the house.
Yet, still, Marcus couldn’t help seeing danger everywhere.
A truck arrived to deliver food to the kitchen. A guy Marcus had never met or vetted carried in the crates of groceries. Who’d packed them? Who drove? How had he not realized just how many ways an assassin could enter the property?
Yet wasn’t I the one who said Darren couldn’t live in a concrete box?
He began to wonder if perhaps that wasn’t a better plan.
Given the fridge appeared fully stocked, Marcus also told the cooks, both the daytime and nighttime ones, to take a week’s break. They’d manage. Even Marcus could figure out a sandwich.
By midafternoon, the only staff left was the guards. He’d sent everyone else home.
The paranoia now infecting him made him eye the aluminum foil in the kitchen and wonder if he should tape it on the windows to block any signals beaming in.
That was probably a tad crazy. Still, just to be safe, he disconnected their internal network from the worldwide web. No more Internet coming into the house and possibly infiltrating their security.
Late afternoon, Marcus ran into Kacy as she left the suite wearing the jeans he’d stuffed into the bag, along with an oversized T-shirt. Still not his.
Grrr.
Seeing her, his heart rate quickened, and for a moment, her lips curved into a welcoming smile. It quickly turned into a frown.
“There you are. Darren needs to talk to you about his trip.”
Only once she’d dragged him into the room did he notice Darren was nowhere to be seen.
“Your boss is in his office.” She mentioned with a wave of her hand. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore. All that reading and typing.”
“I told you it was boring. So, listen”—his shoulders hunched as he looked for the right words—“I want to apologize for not listening more closely to you. I should have checked your suitcase before loading it in the car.”
“Yeah, you should have. But, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have thought to check it either.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “The fact that they bombed my case and set it on a delayed GPS timer was pretty fucking slick.”
“It was, and…” Marcus decided to mention the thing bothering him most. “The only way they could have known about you and the fact that we were grabbing the stuff was if—”
“There’s a mole.” She nodded. “I know. I realized that, too. It’s why we’ve been up here all
afternoon going over employee files.”
“Did anyone jump out?”
“No.”
“I sent the staff home, all but the guards.”
“Good idea. Although I am wondering if we should get rid of them, too.”
“They’ve been vetted.”
“Doesn’t mean shit,” she said. “Everyone has a price.”
“I don’t.”
At his declaration, she stared at him. “Are you sure of that?”
“I don’t give a shit about money. I’ve lived without before. I could do it again. Although, I probably wouldn’t have to. Darren pays me well.”
“Money isn’t the only bribery factor. What if they threatened the right person?”
He shook his head. “I have no one. Only Darren. I would die for the man in a heartbeat.”
“Surely you have some family…”
He kept shaking his head. “No siblings. Parents dead. My granddad, too. No girlfriend. No kids. Not even a pet.”
At his admission, she stared at him, long enough that he shifted uncomfortably.
“Go ahead. Mock me. Call me a big fucking loser or a socially inept dummy. As you’ve noticed, I’m not the most approachable person.”
“Me either.” Her lips quirked. “My mother is convinced I’ll end up a spinster because I scare off all the men who show an interest.”
“If they can’t handle your feisty side, then they’re morons.”
“Feisty?” She arched a brow. “Why that’s almost a compliment, meathead.”
“Almost. You’re also bossy and mean. But then again”—his turn to smile—“so am I.”
At that, she laughed, a genuine chortle that warmed him to the toes.
“I like you, meathead. When you’re not being a chauvinistic pig, you’re actually decent.”
“Quick, someone call poison control. I think you’ve been infected.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Heavily sarcastic and yet she still smiled.
“So I’ve told you about my lack of life outside of work. What about you?”
“None of your business.”
“That doesn’t seem fair, little pint. Sharing is caring.”
“All I care about is getting the job done.” And that ended their moment.
The rest of that day was spent going over plans as the mystery trip was set for the day after next. According to a message Darren had received, a car would pick them up at eight a.m. The ass-crack of dawn, or so his boss, Darren, had declared. He tended to gravitate more to nighttime activities, whereas Marcus, after years in the military, found his body rebelling against sleeping half the day away.
The evening passed quietly, with Darren staying away from windows and dealing with as much business as he could before their upcoming trip.
Wandering up from the kitchen, hands laden with food, Marcus stopped just outside the master bedroom suite and unabashedly eavesdropped on a conversation between Kacy and her mom.
“Lunch was good, Mama.” A pause as she listened to a reply. “No, he hasn’t kissed me.” Another moment of silence, then, “He’s asked me to go away with him for a few days.”
Even hidden outside the door, which was only ajar a few inches, Marcus heard the squeal and smiled.
“Mama!”
He couldn’t hear what the comment was, but Kacy’s tone appeared rather shocked.
“Has that man come back to harass you?”
What man?
“Love you, too, Mama.” Then, “I know you’re spying, meathead.”
He pushed open the door with his foot and grinned. “Was that really your mother you were talking to or your handler?”
Kacy flopped onto the couch and sighed. “Real mother. Who thinks I am really dating your boss.”
“Why lie to her?”
She shrugged. “Because it makes her happy to think I’m not all alone.”
“Are you? Alone?”
“Is this your way of finding out if I’m hitting the sheets with a guy?”
Yes. “Are you dating anyone?”
“No.” Her lips turned down. “I don’t have time to date.”
“Don’t have time and can’t connect with people,” Marcus admitted. He immediately wanted to punch himself for sounding like a fucking pussy.
But she didn’t disparage him. “It’s hard to find someone who understands what I do. Most guys are like…they see a tiny Latina, and they assume I’m some useless bimbo.”
“And then you punch them,” he said before biting into a sandwich he’d made.
For a moment, she gaped at him and then smiled, a genuine grin that lit her features. “Yes, I do punch them for being fucking assholes.”
“Sorry I was one of those assholes.”
“You can’t help yourself. It’s a genetic predisposition.”
“To be chauvinistic?”
“I was going to say stupid, but that also works.”
Verbal sparring filled their evening until Darren went to bed.
Kacy then left him watching so she could take a peek around the grounds.
Marcus didn’t see her much the next day. When she wasn’t personally watching over Darren, Marcus was while she went scouting.
He didn’t really get to connect with her until dinner, when they all ended up in the kitchen, with Kacy making them…
“Burgers?” Marcus said, noting the patties on the grill part of the stovetop.
“If you say you wanted tacos, I’ll throat punch you,” she growled.
“I was going to say tamales.” He laughed as he ducked the spatula she sent his way.
Meanwhile, Darren shook his head. “What happened to getting along?”
“This is getting along. Isn’t it, little pint?”
She glared at him, but it wasn’t a mean one, and when he got close to grab some plates for them to use, she didn’t hit him. Not even a nudge.
He kind of missed it.
After their meal, Darren once again closeted himself in his office, leaving Marcus alone with Kacy.
“So, how old are you?” he asked.
“Why do you want to know? Gonna claim I’m too young to do this job?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s called conversation. I’m twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-seven. Which, according to my mother, means my prime childbearing years are almost over.”
“Do you want kids?” he asked.
“How about we not talk about personal shit and we, instead, stick to the mission. When we get to wherever we’re going, we might not have chances to exchange information.”
“Should we develop a special hand signal?”
Her brow knit. “That might be a plan. Except it’s got to be something no one would suspect. Remember, once we get there, you are the employee, and I’m your boss’s bratty girlfriend.”
“So no putting you over my knee for a spanking?”
“That means no innuendos at all.”
“Way to suck all the fun out of it.”
Her gaze turned serious. “This isn’t a game, meathead. The stakes are very real. How we perform could mean life or death.”
Way to give a man anxiety. Just thinking about the fact that he might fuck up kept him awake.
Did Kacy manage to sleep knowing just how much rode on their skills?
Later that night, he lay awake in his bed, listening, the secret panel between the rooms once again open. He couldn’t have said why he couldn’t sleep. The security system was armed. All four guards with the dogs patrolled. Even if someone got past them, they’d have a hard time gaining entrance without making a racket, seeing as how Kacy had booby-trapped all the windows with as many tippy vases and glasses as she could find.
Crazy, but he had to admit, clever too.
With the entrances secured, he should sleep, tomorrow would be a busy day, and yet his mind whirred.
It spun, wondering if he was up to the task.
If he peeked through the door, would he see her once again bur
rowed into a nest of pillows on the floor? Did she sleep alongside Darren, wearing something like the filmy pajamas that had arrived that afternoon, along with the other replacement clothes for the trip?
He’d seen it when she’d pulled it from one of the bags embossed in gold with the name of a posh shop.
The soft silk would barely cover her curves. It would slide so easily against her skin, leaving her exposed. The king-sized bed might seem large, but perhaps she would seek another body in her slumber. Something warm to cuddle.
The more he wondered, the more his irritation grew.
The more he had to know.
Forget explaining his irrational jealousy.
Sliding from his bed, he remained barefoot and padded into the other room, and as he neared the break in the wall leading to the bedroom section, he noticed an odd scent.
Rotten eggs. It took him a half second to clue in to what it meant.
He swept into the bedroom, noting Darren on the bed and Kacy draped on the half-back divan, her phone clutched in her hand. Neither of them stirred at his entry. He could hear a slight hiss, and the smell of eggs grew stronger. A gas leak. But how?
He headed to the fireplace and noted the switch in the off position, yet gas hissed. A crouch down showed the pilot flame missing.
Not good. Opening the doors to the balcony, he let in some fresh air, but he needed to do more than that. Everyone needed to clear this room.
He hesitated between Kacy and Darren.
As the more petite person, gas would affect Kacy more. But he could hear her harangue now. How dare you rescue me before your boss.
Sigh. He’d have to hope the influx of fresh air would counter some of the gas. Going to the bed, he grabbed Darren, whose snores had slowed to a soft rumble. The man barely reacted, managing only a slurred, “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
“Too bad.” Marcus heaved Darren across his shoulders, fireman style. He couldn’t help but take a breath between the bed and the door, the pungent gas making him grimace. At the bedroom door leading to the hall, he thumbed the lock and then turned the handle. It moved, but the door didn’t budge.
Seriously?
If this were a normal door, he would have kicked it in, but Darren had more paranoia than you’d expect. The bedroom could double as a panic room, which meant the doors were made of reinforced steel set in a solid steel frame. A simple kick wouldn’t do it.