Protection for Hire

by Camy Tang

  “I’m more than happy to risk it instead of you,” Eddie said quickly.

  “Eddie —” Charles started, but Tessa interrupted.

  “Eddie, since I have to go with Charles to protect him, I need you to stay to protect Elizabeth. Charles doesn’t know mixed martial arts so he’d be hopeless.”

  Charles looked like he might protest that so Tessa jabbed at his shin with her heel, and he shut his mouth.

  Eddie looked thoughtful. “I see your point.”

  “Be vigilant tonight,” Tessa told him. “If Stillwater Group somehow found out we were going to this party and leaving Elizabeth here, they might attack.” Okay, well, it was a remote possibility, but the anticipation of danger sent Eddie into military alertness.

  “I better go find Charles’s shotgun, and grab all the knives from the kitchen and stockpile them in the panic room.”

  “I still need to cook tonight,” Vivian protested.

  “And batteries for the flashlights in case they cut power. And charge cell phones too …”

  “Gee, thanks a lot,” Elizabeth groused to Tessa in an aside.

  “Would you rather listen to him complain all night about how he ought to have gone?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “You’re right, you’re right.”

  “We’d better go,” Charles said.

  On the way, Tessa settled back into the cool leather seats of the Audi and asked, “Are we really going to be able to overhear the conversations we want to overhear while playing host and hostess?”

  “I hope so. Most people will be there for business, so they’ll be talking business. My only concern is that sometimes women like to get chatty about other things.”

  “They might be looking for a little entertainment, sport.”

  He glowered. “We’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the night when you’re trying to keep some young punk’s hands off of you.”

  “I could say the same of you and some older woman.” She laughed.

  He’d implied she looked beautiful, desirable. Before, that might have elicited a guffaw of disbelief or the heat of embarrassment, but tonight she actually was beautiful and desirable. She was a paper crane folded right-side-out.

  Charles left the car with the hotel valet and the two of them went inside. They found the ballroom where the party was being held and immediately found the event manager.

  Tessa and Charles were two of twelve hosts and hostesses hired for the party, and as soon as the event manager saw them, he sized up Charles and said, “You’re nice and tall. I’m assigning you to Velma.”

  “Who?”

  “Velma Crackenburg, one of the firm’s biggest clients. You’ll stick beside her all night and make sure she gets whatever she wants.” He turned to include Tessa. “The guests haven’t arrived yet, so just hang out here so you can welcome them when they come.”

  A few minutes later, one of the first guests to arrive was a woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a topknot ponytail, wearing a strapless purple sequined gown. She looked at least seventy-five years old. The events manager stepped up to her, pulling Charles with him. Tessa held back near the ballroom doors but watched them.

  “How nice to see you, Ms. Crackenburg,” the event manager said to the woman.

  She struck a pose worthy of Marilyn Monroe and gave Charles a vertical stare. “And who is this?” Her voice was a low, husky, smoker’s voice.

  “Charles Carmichael,” he said in a tight voice.

  “You’re one of the hunkiest hosts I’ve seen in a while.” She turned to the event manager. “Good job this time, Danny.”

  Tessa swallowed a giggle.

  “Er, thank you, Ms. Crackenburg.” The look the event manager gave to Charles looked part relieved and part pitying. “Charles will take care of anything you need.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will,” Velma drawled.

  Charles offered her his arm and she sashayed next to him into the ballroom.

  Tessa looked about for any other guests arriving, and spotted a medium height young man in a tux approaching. He was perhaps in his early twenties, with a square jaw and short brown hair, but the young woman walking next to him wasn’t dressed up — instead, she wore jeans and a leather jacket.

  And in a second, Tessa recognized Karissa and her housemate, Josh, whom she’d met the time she picked Karissa up to take her to the church at Wings.

  “Tessa?” Karissa stopped and stared. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was hired as a hostess for this party,” she said.

  “What happened to Elizabeth?”

  “She’s okay. I’m still her bodyguard.”

  Karissa’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, you’re going undercover. How cool! Your life is just so exciting.” She turned to whap Josh on the shoulder. “You lucky bum! You get to go all Jason Bourne tonight.”

  “Hey, watch the tux,” Josh said.

  “Like you don’t have three of them.” Karissa told Tessa, “Josh goes to these types of things all the time. He’s an old pro.”

  “This is a party for pretty wealthy investors, but you rent a room in Karissa’s house …?” Tessa asked.

  “Oh, Josh is loaded,” Karissa said. “He actually owns the house.”

  “I used to have a condo, but it was kind of boring,” Josh said. “The house is more fun. There’s four of us, and we sit up late and hang out all the time.”

  “You have to tell me all about your night when you get back,” Karissa said.

  “Where are you going?” Tessa asked.

  “There’s a Chris Tomlin concert tonight at the Filmore — I’ve never seen him before — and a bunch of friends are going.”

  Josh sighed. “I’d rather go to the Chris Tomlin concert, but my folks are in Portugal right now and I promised my dad I’d talk to his investor friend at this party tonight.”

  Tessa smiled. “I’ll make sure you have a fun evening, even without Chris Tomlin.”

  Karissa groaned. “I’m so jealous. I had so much fun driving your car back to Wings. I spotted all three tails! It was so neat!”

  Tessa winced. She hoped she didn’t encourage Le-Femme-Nikita-Karissa to get into too much trouble.

  “Whoa, will we get tailed tonight?” Josh asked, his eyes sparkling.

  “That would be a no, tiger.”

  “Aw.”

  “Gotta run or I’ll be late. See ya!” Karissa hurried off.

  “Don’t worry.” Tessa threaded her hand through Josh’s tuxedoed arm. “I might need you to help me.”

  “Do what? Break down a door? Beat up a bodyguard?”

  “I might need you to distract a woman named Velma Crackenburg …”

  Chapter 23

  He must have James Bond on the brain tonight, but Velma

  Crackenburg reminded Charles of a Bond woman who didn’t realize she was forty years past her seduction days.

  She was also not interested in any of the business being discussed at the party.

  Plenty of men wanted to talk to her, however.

  “Velma.” A rotund man who looked like a giant black-and-white blueberry approached them soon after they entered the ballroom. “How lovely to see you here.” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

  “Hello, Jeffrey,” she responded in a bored voice. She scrubbed at her cheek with a hand bejeweled with diamonds. “You really must shave that moustache. It scratches.”

  Poor Jeffrey’s square hand went to his neatly trimmed black moustache. “And here I grew it out just for you.”

  Velma leaned close to him and leered. “Now if you wanted to get a room, I can show you where I’d like to be scratched —”

  “Ahem. Velma, did you get my message about that dotcom investment opportunity?”

  “They bombed, Jeffrey, and I won’t put a dime into another one.”

  “No, this one is very promising —”

  “Scoot off, Jeffrey.” Velma snuggled up to Charles, wrapping him in her Chanel No. 5 scent until he almost gagg
ed. “I’m in more interesting company than yours.”

  She was approached by a Randolf, a Jeremiah, and a Jackson, all of whom were not-so-subtly propositioned by Velma, and all of whom quickly changed the subject. Velma didn’t bother to introduce Charles, and told all of them to “scoot off,” some even before they mentioned various lucrative investment opportunities they had for her.

  Velma stroked Charles’s arm, her diamond bracelets clanking together. “You’re so quiet, Charles. Not intimidated by me, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Call me Velma.”

  His throat was tight. “Is there anything I can get for you? More champagne?”

  “I love to open men’s eyes to new experiences.” She parted fire-engine-red lips in a wide smile.

  Charles was rescued by a man who strode through the crowd with confidence that was completely real and not faked — it oozed out of him, forming a red carpet on the floor in front of his Italian leather shoes.

  Albert Richmond III, one of Heath’s business partners in Stillwater Group. Charles wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. He whispered to Velma, “I heard they had a problem with a recent special investment.”

  Velma gave him a long look under smoky eyelashes and murmured, “You have unseen depths, Charles.”

  “Velma.” The man held out a hand, which Velma grasped with less reluctance than she had with the other men. “It was good of you to come.”

  “Of course, Albert. Lovely party you’ve put together.” She gave Charles a quick glance, then said, “I hear you have a very special investment strategy in the works.”

  “We always have special strategies. We make our investors money because we keep abreast of innovative developments.”

  “I also heard you might have had a bit of a sticky problem with your most recent development.”

  Richmond gave her a tight, condescending smile. “Don’t pay attention to rumors, Velma. It’s just business as usual.”

  But she wasn’t about to be put off. “Don’t give me that, Albert, I know when you’re lying. What investment was it that had a problem?”

  Richmond didn’t quite roll his eyes, but his dark orbs hovered on the ceiling of his eyelids for a moment before he replied, “The problem was resolved.”

  “Sure it was. You need to work on that poker face, Albert. What investment was it?”

  “I’m afraid it was for a fund that has already closed.”

  “Nothing is closed. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “The investor came to us and requested an exclusive fund.”

  “Exclusive?” Her penciled brows reached for her widow’s peak, highlighting her swaths of purple eye shadow. “Since when am I excluded from an investment at this firm?”

  “You’ve enjoyed plenty of exclusive investments yourself.”

  Velma pouted. “But I don’t like being left out. Make this one inclusive for me, Albert. I want in.”

  His eyebrows flattened. “The money has already changed hands, I’m afraid.”

  Even Velma wasn’t willful enough to breach his implacableness. “Fine, fine. But at least tell me who the investor is.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  Rather than being rebuked, Velma curled the edges of her mouth upward, and her lashes heavy with mascara became slits. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I love a good challenge.”

  Richmond’s lips pressed against each other for a brief moment, then relaxed into an indulgent smile. “I promise you first crack at our next investment opportunity. I’ll call on you next week.”

  “You’d better, Albert.” From under all the makeup, the low-cut purple dress, and the girlish hair style, the shrewd businesswoman shone out. Velma Crackenburg was a woman who knew her power lay in her money, which she’d multiplied by her own wise choices.

  “Go ahead and do your obligatory mingling, Albert,” Velma commanded.

  Gracious despite her tone, Richmond inclined his head. “Enjoy yourself, Velma.”

  “Well.” Velma pressed against Charles. “You decided to speak like a good puppy.”

  “I, er, thought you wanted me to … Velma.”

  “So I did. And you did me a favor. Now I have a mystery to solve.” Her sharp nose swept from side to side, twitching with anticipation. “Who would know about the new investor, hmm? Oh, there’s Bernard Hathaway. Let’s try him.” She sliced through the crowd of people, and Charles followed in her wake.

  He couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried. And thank goodness, now Velma had something to occupy her time rather than trying to get Charles to agree to a little extracurricular activity.

  “Bernard,” Velma barked as she approached the man, who was white and furry like a rabbit. Thick white brows almost touched his curly white hairline as he saw her.

  “Uh … Velma. Hello.” He tried to smile, but only his two large front teeth showed, framed by bloodless lips.

  “Have you heard anything about Stillwater’s problem investment? The one for the exclusive fund that had a spot of trouble?”

  “Trouble? I don’t like trouble. Especially investments in trouble,” he chattered.

  “You are as dumb as a dodo. Have you heard anything about it?”

  “Uh … no.”

  Velma eyed him narrowly. “But you know who has.” It wasn’t a question.

  Bernard tugged at his bow tie. “Al,” he gulped.

  “Albert? You dimwit, of course he’d know —”

  “No, Aloisius.”

  Velma puckered her red lips. “Oh. You’re absolutely right. Thanks, Bernard.”

  She sailed off again, but after circling the ballroom, slamming down two flutes of champagne, and bumping heedlessly into four of the couples dancing in the center of the room, she hadn’t found her prey.

  While on their circuit, Charles caught sight of Heath, and his heart sprinted from his chest up to his throat. They were going to pass right next to him …

  But the man’s eyes passed over Charles without recognition. Thank you, God. While Charles had seen plenty of pictures of Heath, he hadn’t spoken to him, just to his now former attorney, and while Heath could have looked up Charles’s picture on the firm’s website, he obviously hadn’t.

  But from that moment, he kept a vigilant eye for anyone who might recognize him. He hoped Manchester Greer wasn’t here.

  Velma stopped a man who’d come in full Scottish regalia. “Chip, have you seen Aloisius?”

  “He hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Darn.” She turned to Charles. “Let’s dance!”

  From the ballroom dancing lessons his mama had made him take, Charles thought that only the woman’s hand rested on his shoulder, while he held her other hand and touched the curve of her waist. Velma, however, slathered herself all over him.

  But it was while he was dancing that he saw Tessa.

  She stood next to a middling-height young man who looked like a kid playing dress-up with his daddy’s tuxedo. He shouldn’t even be drinking, he was so young. Charles scowled.

  “There’s Aloisius,” Velma said. “Finally. Oh, but he’s walking up to Albert. Darn. I’ll have to wait until they’re done talking.”

  As the music started drawing to a close, Charles spotted a tall, slender man who looked a bit like a carrot shaking hands in greeting with Albert Richmond. Their expressions were grave, and Charles knew in his gut they were intending to talk about their latest investment and the private investor.

  He had to talk to them.

  With a few aggressive swirls and by bumping into a few couples, he swept Velma halfway across the ballroom to end the dance close to where Tessa and the Kid were standing. Over Velma’s head, he met Tessa’s eyes and silently pleaded for help. He had to get Velma off his hands so he could try to overhear that conversation.

  “My goodness, Velma Crackenburg? Is that you?” Tessa came forward with hands outstretched. Her dress borrowed from Layla looked as expensive as any other dress her
e at the party, and there was no way Velma would know she was a hired hostess and not an invited investor. Strangely, the Kid didn’t seem to mind her abandoning him to talk to Velma and Charles.

  Velma’s lips pursed. “Do I know you?” Her tone would have flattened a meringue.

  “I’m sorry, we’ve never formally met, I’m Theresa Blume. I’m, um …” Tessa’s eyes strayed to Charles, standing behind Velma, for some help.

  He mouthed, “Albert.”

  “… I’m a friend of Albert,” Tessa finished.

  “Oh?” Velma didn’t snub Tessa, but her wary expression didn’t drop either.

  There was a canny light in Tessa’s eyes as they traveled from Velma’s topknot to the strapless dress. “The reason I want to talk to you is because …” She leaned in closer to Velma. “My br — uncle Josh over there really wants to dance with you, but he was too shy to ask himself.”

  Velma eyed the Kid. “Your uncle?”

  “Oh, don’t let his looks fool you, he’s like, forty. Can I introduce you?”

  Velma lifted a hand to smooth her steely topknot ponytail. “Of course.”

  “Velma Crackenburg, my uncle Joshua Cathcart.”

  Josh’s eyes bugged out a little, but he smiled at Velma. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Uncle Josh, Velma said she’d be happy to dance with you.”

  Josh looked like he’d swallowed a spider. “Uh … great.”

  Charles touched Velma’s elbow and drew her aside slightly to ask, “Would it be all right if I danced with Tes — Theresa while you’re dancing with Josh? He’ll bring you back to her afterward so I won’t lose you.”

  While he was speaking, Charles heard a protesting whisper, “But she’s old enough to be my grandm — aaaaah!” Josh grimaced in pain. Glancing down, Charles noted Tessa’s heel squarely stabbing the toe of Josh’s dress shoe.

  Thankfully, Velma’s hearing probably wasn’t what it used to be. She smiled at Josh’s youthful face. “Certainly.”

  Josh led Velma out onto the dance floor and Charles drew Tessa into his arms.

  He felt as if a circle had been completed.

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes glowing with flecks of emerald. He thought she might have stopped breathing — he knew he did. He’d wanted to hold her since the moment he saw her at the foot of his stairs, regal in that blue gown. She hadn’t been transformed so much as enhanced — before, her confidence had been in her walk and her athletic grace, but tonight, it shone from every pore, in the tilt of her chin, the sway of her hips, the toss of her head. His hand at her waist tightened.