“No.” Jade shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “We were just going over the case details. You got the surveillance in place?”
“It’s set.” Frank held up a small device that looked like a PDA. “We’ll know if anybody gets in.”
“Like an alarm?” Tremaine asked.
“One only we can detect here, though.”
“So, if somebody breaks in…” Tremaine took a protesting step forward. “I have a lot of valuables in my office—”
“We’ll get those,” Frank said. “Can we take him, J.B.?”
“Now’s as good a time as any,” she said. She assumed Frank would explain that they wanted to know when or if somebody broke in, and they didn’t want that person scared away by an alarm. But with the signet ring being such a key to the case, she needed to make sure it was secure.
“I need to talk to you a sec before you leave,” she said to Tremaine.
“I’ve got phone calls to return,” Frank said, heading toward the dining room.
Mo shrugged. “What’ve we got to eat?” He headed to the kitchen, presumably to find out.
“The ring is in your office?” she asked when she was alone with her client.
“No.”
“But it’s secure.”
“Yes.”
The resentment she’d longed for a few minutes earlier finally arrived. “Do you think I could actually see it?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“How gracious of you. Is Colin Hannigan an employee of Peter Garner?”
“Not as far as I know. He’s a government informant.”
“You think Garner knows about the NSA?”
“I don’t see how, but anything is possible.”
“And yet Hannigan has information about the shooting.” She thought it was very likely Garner had found a connection between Tremaine and Hannigan—even if he didn’t know the basis of the relationship—and had decided to use him in some way.
The links between past and present were varied. What had been the relationship between Garner and Nagel? Maybe boss and employee?
Had Garner known Remy owned the ring all this time? If so, why had he just now decided to get it back? When offering to buy it hadn’t worked, why had he tried to shoot him? A warning?
“As for this meeting with your informant,” she continued to Tremaine, “I still don’t like it, but we’re going.”
“We?”
“You, too. You might be a rebellious troublemaker, but you’re no fool.”
He simply nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’d like everything you can give me on Hannigan. And I’m going to ask around on my own today. All right?”
“That’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.”
“I appreciate you sharing your history. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“You needed to know.”
“Yeah.” Despite her resistance, they’d become more than guard and client in the past few hours, and she was uncertain how to move forward. Investigating the crime could easily take a backseat to investigating the man and her feelings toward him.
She needed to stay on track. His life was in danger, and he was counting on her to get him through safely.
“You ready, Tremaine?” Frank called from the other side of the room.
“Sure.”
As he started to walk away, Jade grabbed his wrist. She cleared her throat as she looked up at him. “Remy, I’m sorry.”
His eyes warmed at her use of his first name. “For what?”
“The loss of Nagel, your friend John and your parents.”
His mouth lifted at the corners in a sexy smile that she was quickly becoming addicted to. “You, too.”
DURING THE LIMO ride to the club that night, Remy only half listened to Jade snap out orders about procedure and safety.
“…if anything makes you feel odd or uneasy, signal me right away. Don’t go through large crowds unnecessarily. If you need to go to the bathroom…”
It was difficult to concentrate on her words, as she’d decided to let David and Frank be the security guards while she posed as his date. Which had some definite benefits for him.
She wore a short, halter-top dress in turquoise that revealed curves and lifted cleavage. She’d styled her shoulder-length red hair in soft waves, applied makeup that accentuated her eyes and added gloss to her lips.
He’d been fascinated with her lips since he’d first seen her. They’d softened against his when he’d managed to catch her off guard, though she drew them into a stern line most of the time. But with the shiny pink color highlighting them, they even looked appealing giving orders.
His life was on the line, and all he could think about were the magical things he could do to those lips, not to mention the pleasure they could bring him. He envisioned her trailing kisses across his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste his nipple.
Her mouth would venture lower, across the planes of his stomach, her hair trailing behind her and caressing his skin. His erection throbbed as she grew closer. He longed for that first touch, the first stroke of complete intimacy. He knew they’d be amazing together. If he could just convince her.
And get rid of the psycho trying to shoot him.
“Are you listening to me?”
He blinked out of his fantasy. “Absolutely.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but continued. “Don’t draw undue attention to yourself. Watch faces. Try to remember if you’ve seen them before….”
Where was I?
Oh, yeah, her lips pressed to my stomach….
His body pulsed in anticipation. He could smell her clean, simple scent, like fresh laundry or a summer breeze. He tangled his hand in her hair and closed his eyes. He could feel her breath against his skin, her hands kneading his thighs.
“Tremaine!”
A few hours ago it was Remy. If she was on the verge of giving him a blow job surely it would be Remy.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked.
My pants are way too tight, but yes, I hear you.
“I’m here,” he said finally, trying to mentally dress himself as well as her.
“I get the sense that I don’t have your full attention.”
“You do.” Just not the attention you’re probably interested in at the moment.
“Have I explained that I don’t like this meeting?”
“Several times.”
“Are you going to actually follow directions?”
“I’ll try.”
Those glossy lips thinned. “Try hard.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t be cute.”
“That’ll take more effort.”
“I’m sure. Are you armed?”
“Yes. Ankle holster. Are you?”
“Of course.”
His gaze slid down her skimpy outfit. “Where?”
“Upper thigh, knife sleeve.”
In a combination of pleasure and pain envisioning that, he closed his eyes briefly. “How did I miss you putting that on?”
She glanced at Frank and David, sitting across from them but engrossed in a handheld video game. “I’m not hiking up my dress for you, Tremaine,” she said quietly.
“Maybe later?”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
He trailed his finger along her thigh. “How about I make you lose your breath instead?”
“We’re working here, Tremaine.”
“Back to Tremaine, are we? And we were making so much progress.”
She cast another wary glance at her staff members, who were now arguing about the game. “I need to reestablish some distance. It’s important that I stay objective.”
“You can do your job and still like me.”
“I can’t let my emotions get involved.”
“Emotions are always involved.”
“Not for me.”
He didn’t believe her. In fact, he was pretty certain she felt things more deeply than most pe
ople. The dramatic losses in her life had forced her to cover up her softer side. “You don’t feel compassion for your clients? You don’t understand their fear and uncertainty?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “For a man who’s not good at answering questions, you ask some pretty nosey ones.”
“I’m just trying to soften you up so I can have my wicked way with you.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not big on smoking. How about a nice, long nap?”
“I’m serious.”
“You think I’m not?”
“We live in different cities and have very different lives. I don’t want to get involved with anybody now.”
He could live anywhere. He’d simply chosen Atlanta for its size and sense of anonymity. “Hmm. Well, I did promise you guidelines, didn’t I? I’m fine with a wild, temporary affair,” he said, though as soon as the teasing words were out, he doubted them.
Was this attraction to her really all about sex? Was his need to be with her just curiosity about his long-time crush or a product of the tailspin his life had turned into? Did he need her for only advice and security, her expertise and understanding?
Or was there something more?
“I can’t believe I’m considering this,” she said, shaking her head.
“Take your time.” He grinned. “On second thought, hurry up. In fact—” he looked at his watch “—if we can get through this meeting quickly, the night will still be young.”
“Yeah? My calendar’s pretty full protecting your backside.”
“And think how much more intimately you could—”
“Hey, J.B.,” Frank said. “Didn’t you bust six million points on Hard Target?”
Remy forced himself to focus on Frank’s question and stow his personal issues.
“Yes,” Jade said, “but you guys are never going to match it on that little thing.”
David frowned over the handheld game.
“You need the big game back at the office,” she continued. “The gun attachment gives you a lot more control than the buttons on the minigame.”
“I sense an office rivalry,” Remy said, knowing Jade was grateful to be distracted by anything other than them. He’d concede the subject for now, but he had no intention of giving up.
“We have an arcade-size game, complete with plastic pistols, set up in the shooting range at the office. It’s great for practice without expending ammo.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You have your own indoor shooting range?”
“Oh, yeah,” Frank said. “J.B. and I are big on keeping the reflexes sharp, plus, we set up a side business, giving shooting lessons. It pays the bills when there’s no mortal danger to protect people from.”
“We mostly get cops or federal agents who want to improve their marksman skills,” she said. “We found David that way.”
“She’s trying to gently point out that I suck at firearms,” David said.
“Sucked,” Jade corrected.
“He was in the NOPD police academy,” Frank said. “Great in every area.”
“But I was a lousy marksman,” David put in.
“J.B. and I got hold of him, improved his skills, then convinced him to give up his cop dreams and join us.”
“Less bureaucracy,” Jade said.
“And more action,” David finished.
They high-fived across the seat.
If Remy had ever doubted the quality of the operation he’d entrusted his life to, this moment would have changed his mind. Jade and Frank’s team respected and believed in them. So much of their leadership shined through the people who weren’t in charge.
He also liked watching Jade and Frank together. Their father/daughter-like relationship had no doubt kept them both grounded during their years in the NSA. Part of him longed for the sense of teamwork and camaraderie at Williams-Broussard Investigations, even though he knew he was a loner.
Not since his days at the orphanage had he truly felt part of a special community. But Jade and her crew made him feel like a vital part of a cohesive, supportive unit. And while he’d tried to downplay the issue of his life being threatened, he could silently acknowledge that he valued their support.
They’d spent the afternoon studying pictures of Garner and his known associates, calling contacts in San Francisco to put him under surveillance and strategizing about his next possible move. Remy had done the same thing over the last couple of months, but now that the stakes had been raised considerably, he was grateful for the added resources of Jade’s team.
“We’re nearly there, J.B.,” said a voice over the limo intercom.
Jade pressed a button near the door. “Thanks, Charlie.”
“Another one of yours?” Remy asked.
“Would I trust your safety to anybody but the best?”
“No,” Frank and David answered at the same time.
The relaxed, friendly mood lasted until they pulled up to the rear entrance of Club Pi. Remy wished he could buy the team drinks as a thank-you but doubted they’d agree to the indulgence. Maybe when all this was over.
Flanked by David and Frank, he and Jade joined hands and were hustled through the club’s back door and into the kitchen. He cast a glance at the waiters and bar staff, who were giving them curious looks. “I feel so Hollywood.”
“Just stay close to me and don’t sign any autographs,” Jade said, keeping a tight hold on his hand.
Remy tried to focus on the faces around him. He was supposed to absorb his surroundings. Somebody was certainly out to get him. Somebody most likely hired by Peter Garner, whom nobody would mistake for being a less-than-dangerous guy.
Self-preservation should be foremost in his mind. Instead, he let Jade walk ahead of him, just so he could watch her hips twitch as she moved.
“Precisely how far do I get to go with this date thing?” he asked in her ear.
“When I slug you, you’ll know you’ve gone too far,” she said without turning around.
“You’re taking all the fun out of this.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s what this is supposed to be—fun and games.”
“You wouldn’t be so crabby if you had some fun once in a while.”
She halted. “Crabby?” she asked, turning to stare at him in amazement.
“If the mood fits…”
“Problem, J.B.?” Frank asked, his gaze darting between them.
Finally, Jade started moving again. “No. Let’s just get this over with.”
7
JADE STUCK CLOSE to her client as they wound their way through the crowded nightclub, music and partiers pulsing around them. So much for avoiding large groups of people.
And so much for her reestablishing distance.
His looks alone messed with her concentration. Darkly handsome in black pants and a gray, button-down shirt that matched his eyes and emphasized the breadth of his chest, Tremaine certainly turned heads as he passed. His proximity also brought its own kind of sweet torture. His hand in hers, his body brushing against her.
Added to her own personal hell were what seemed like eight thousand people who brushed by, bumped or just outright ran into them while they made their way to the second-floor meeting with Colin Hannigan.
She absolutely hated undercover work.
By the time they reached the table where the informant sat alone, she was more in the mood to shoot than pretend to flirt.
Hannigan looked a bit worse for wear than the most recent picture she’d found of him. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were wrinkled. He stood as they approached him. “You got an entourage now?” he asked, nervously eyeing Frank and David.
“New security team,” Tremaine said with a shrug. “And my girlfriend, Mandy.”
Jade jolted herself out of the shock of hearing how smoothly Tremaine had shifted into their cover story and managed to smile in what she hoped was a girlfriend-type way.
“Whoa, Mr. Smooth is off the market?”
“I’m afraid so. I hope you don’t mind my bringing her. She’s stuck to me like glue ever since the shooting.”
Feeling like an idiot, but giving in to the part, Jade flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave Tremaine an affectionately annoyed look. “Especially since you seem to enjoy having dinner with overly skinny blondes when I’m not around.”
“She was a business colleague, darling,” he said.
“So you said.”
Their mock disagreement had the effect they’d wanted—Hannigan relaxed. “No fighting, you two. We’re celebrating.” He extended his arm. “Have a seat.”
Tremaine’s eyebrows rose as he pulled out Jade’s chair. “Celebrating?”
“Sure. You’re here, aren’t you? Failed hit and all that.”
Though Jade had done a great many wild things in her career, the up-front, casual way Hannigan referred to a hit surprised even her.
Her client seemed to take the odd comment in stride. He chuckled as he slid into his chair. “Yeah, I’m still here, all right.”
David and Frank took their positions on either side of the table silently, though with their earpieces they could hear every word she, Tremaine and Hannigan said, thanks to the monitoring device in the brooch on her dress and the one in Tremaine’s watch.
The waitress took drink orders. Tremaine asked for a whiskey, while Hannigan ordered a bottle of expensive champagne, which she was sure he had no intention of paying for.
They made inane small talk until she returned, and the ceremony of cork-popping, pouring and toasting was complete. Jade was certainly no Miss Manners, but she still found the whole business tacky. Then again, even Miss Manners probably didn’t have an etiquette policy for celebrating a failed murder attempt.
“So, what’s up?” Tremaine asked once the waitress left.
“There’ve been some rumbles about your shooting,” Hannigan said.
Typically, Tremaine said nothing and waited for his informant to elaborate.
“There was a rumor a few weeks ago about a guy looking for a hit man. No one came to me, but they asked a buddy of mine. Said it was a high-profile deal with a local artist. My buddy didn’t have anything to do with it, but after you got shot, it made me wonder.”
“Who was the guy looking?”
“Some slickster from New York.”
A Breath Away Page 8