by Leslie North
“No, it’s too early here to be doing anything. How’s it going over there?”
Her voice dropped, turned serious. “Not so good. Two more oil wells were targeted yesterday and this time they did a better job. Managed to blow up the main valve on one and infiltrate the computer monitoring system on the other. They’re trying to cap the first well as we speak.”
“We’ve got a credible lead…” Trent broke off. He heard shuffling and then Talib’s lightly accented voice came on the line. He wasn’t just PJ’s main bed warmer these days, he was also head of security for the Jawharan royal family. “Trent?”
“Yo. PJ was just telling me your trouble-makers managed to light a fire under you guys.”
“They’ve been training. This is the sixth well that has been targeted, but only the first to sustain any credible damage.”
“How big is Guardians of the Earth over there? What do you know about the group?” Trent asked, not liking the sound of things.
“They currently have a group in the country, and they’re working with our ministers to help draw up long range plans for sustaining and conservation of our plant and animal life.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s a cover story. Get me pictures of the delegation that’s there right now.”
PJ’s voice butted in. “Trent, what are you thinking?”
Before he could speak, Talib said, “I will get the photos and send them to you immediately. I believe they are to have a luncheon with the Sheikh tomorrow.”
Trent leaned forward. “Find a reason for that not to happen. From the looks of things, there’s an element in this organization that’s being paid to do bad things. Until we know if it’s just a few or the whole crew, I recommend you keep Kamal and Khalil, and their wives, away from that delegation.”
PJ’s voice came back on, sharp and certain. “I’ll get with Brock and we’ll figure something out.”
“Good. We’ll keep Slade informed on this end.”
PJ’s voice dropped. “What’s this I hear about you having a contact on the inside? A close contact? I think Travis may have mentioned Brazil?”
Trent swore. Travis just had to go and open his mouth. “She is a contact—a way for me to get information on the people causing you so much havoc overseas. You got a problem with that?”
“No problem. I’m checking up on you to make sure you don’t have a problem with that.”
“Why is everyone suddenly worried about me?”
“Because, Trent, you start by wrapping a girl around your finger and end up wrapped around hers. One of these days you’re going to meet the girl who doesn’t unwrap—who gets so far under your skin you can’t let go. I want to be there to see that day. You’re going to fall harder than Slade did.”
Trent frowned. “How is it you’re half-way around the world and you know about Slade and Bethany?”
He could hear the grin in PJ’s voice. “Contacts, sweet stuff. It pays to have contacts. Watch yourself, Trent. If these guys are fine with blowing stuff up, they may be fine, too, with taking that next step to blowing up people.”
“That I can handle.”
PJ gave a laugh. “Got it—it’s the girl who’s giving you trouble. Hope she leads you up the garden path and back down it again. Give Travis a big kiss from me.”
“You’ll have to wait until the next time you see him.” He broke the connection and sat at the table, drinking his water, and thinking about what PJ had said.
Was Chloe getting under his skin? He didn’t think so—they’d barely met, after all. Sure, she was a good kid. Different. Funny. Kind. He liked her—and the sex was great. You couldn’t beat that kind of chemistry.
Itchy now, he wandered around his place, trying to think about the numbers they’d seen on that document when they’d gone into the Guardian’s network. He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. It was late—or early. He needed coffee, too. Or sleep. He went into his bedroom and stared at his bed. It looked empty without Chloe there.
Muttering a curse, he headed for Chloe’s place – who cared what Mrs. W. had said or thought. He let himself in, shucked off his shoes, T-shirt, and shorts, and lowered himself into the bed, taking up more than half of the space. He didn’t mind it in the least when Chloe turned, and snuggled up close like she belonged there.
Chapter 11
She was dying.
Water filled her nose. Water pressed down on her head, pressed on her chest, sat like a weight. A blinding pain behind her eyes told her she couldn’t keep holding her breath. She could see the shadows moving on the ice above her. Arms heavy, legs leaden, she willed them to break through and save her.
She watched the ice begin to crack, but it was too late. Her lungs burned as she resisted the need to take a breath—a breath that would be filled with ice cold water instead of air. She finally quit struggling, let her arms go limp, her body sag. She parted her lips. The inevitable could happen. She screamed.
The noise had her sitting up in the bed, gasping, trying to locate the source of the tortured sound. An arm settled around her, warm and strong—the comforting scent of salt and sea sank into her.
“Chloe? Hey, shush. It’s only a dream.” She blinked several times before she realized she was sitting up in bed. A very naked Trent sat beside her, holding her. “You were having a nightmare. Can you remember what it was about?”
Not going there! She shook her head, wincing as pain stirred. She touched her temple, feeling groggy and disoriented—the aftermath of a migraine.
“Stay here and I’ll get you some water.” Trent slipped from the bed. He didn’t bother to cover himself up, and if he wasn’t going to bother, she wasn’t going to avoid looking.
He came back with water. Sitting beside her, he handed her the glass. He turned her so that her back was to him and began to massage her shoulders.
Her muscles loosened and she almost dropped the water glass. “That feels amazing.” She let her head loll to the side. He placed his lips on her skin, licking her skin before sucking it gently into his mouth.
Leaning close, he said, his voice rough, “You taste amazing. I read in a study somewhere that headaches were the worst reason to avoid having sex.”
Chloe moaned as he reached a tender spot just beneath her left shoulder blade. “How’s that?”
He kept working the small knot out of her muscles, and also trailed his over her upper back, nibbling on the curve of her shoulder where it met her neck. Between kisses, he said, “The study stated…sex should actually be used as a cure…releases all kinds of hormones and…feel-good chemicals…makes…a…nasty…migraine…go…away.”
Chloe rolled her head to the other side, inviting attention to that newly exposed skin, “Are you suggesting we make love so that my headache will go away?”
“You’re not willing to try it?” His fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts before snaking around her ribcage to cup them in his warm palms. She was still wearing an oversized T-shirt, but it didn’t matter one bit. The feeling of his hands on her breasts had her nipples hardening.
She didn’t want him to quit touching her. She turned, kissing him, and muttered, “I’m willing to try it if you are.”
Trent rolled with her, pushing her into the mattress. “One migraine cure coming up.”
He dropped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. The feel of the wet fabric only seemed to enhance the pleasure that spiked through her. She twisted and ran her hands over his bare skin. “Trent?”
He didn’t need to be told what she needed. He sank back on his haunches and quickly divested her of the t-shirt. He then snapped the thin elastic bands holding her small panties up from her hips, pulling the offending scrap of fabric away from her body.
“Chloe, you’re absolutely beautiful.”
She smiled, reached up, and pulled his head down to hers. She skimmed her hands down his chest, took him in hand, and yawned. “I’m a little sleepy, so you might have to do most of the work.”<
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With one hand, Trent covered her hand where she was stroking him. “Let me take care of everything.”
He pushed her hands to the side, leaned over, and put his mouth on her. She gave a soft moan and opened wider for him. She tasted salty and slick—like she had the ocean’s tides in her. She tasted fantastic. He lapped at her, used his fingers on her, and wanted to have her fall apart in his hands.
He groaned as her body contracted around him. He found that special spot between her legs that had her moaning in pleasure and tightening around his body to the point of pain. She gave a gasp and her hips bucked. He kept his arms wrapped around her. Lifting his head, he smiled at her.
She touched his cock. “What about you?”
With a grin, he wrapped her hand around him. “What about me?”
She smiled. She cocked a finger and beckoned him to straddle her. He did, positioning himself so that his cock nudged her lips apart. She lay underneath him and opened her mouth, inviting him to push into her. He did. She sucked hard, licked, put her hands on his thighs.
He’d never seen anything so erotic, never felt anything so—she let him push deep into her throat, took him deep. The world whited out around him, he came with a shout, shattered. Collapsing next to her, he let out a breath.
He was exhausted, but sleep was a long time coming. He kept thinking he should pull Chloe out now from the Guardians—he knew they were trouble. But he couldn’t. She could blow the whole plan. He didn’t know how to keep her safe—he just knew he couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.
Chapter 12
It took five days for the damn Guardians to show up—or at least for the movers and shakers behind things to show.
By then Trent had a good idea of who was who—meaning, who in the organization believed in their goals of saving the world and who might be on the take from companies looking to use the Guardians for industrial sabotage. Or at least he thought that Travis had dug up a good idea.
The top two names were Anna Neills and Bradley Myers. Travis hadn’t been able to trace funds to them directly, but they were the only two employees who showed a suspicious change in their spending patterns over the past few months.
The boss had gone to talk to Givart Industries to see what he could shake out from there—he’d gotten a meeting with their lawyers, meaning there definitely had to be a smoking gun around that connected the Guardians with Givart, and with taking out a competing company.
The question now was, who had hired the Guardians to go after Jawhara’s oil fields? Without that information, it wouldn’t work to just take out the Guardians. Jawhara would still be open to additional attacks from some other company willing to pay to get their dirty work done. Besides, it turned out that Chloe had been right—the Guardians did do a lot of good. So, it was time to pluck out the bad apples.
Trent was just hoping they would take the bait that he was going to give them.
He pushed through the glass doors, clad in his best surfer gear—board shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and sandals. He flashed a peace sign at Chloe, and a wink, and turned to the austere-looking woman who seemed to be waiting for him.
Anna Neills—he knew from her photo online. She’d come up from a middle-class family, had bailed out of the corporate sector, ran one non-profit into the ground, had married a guy who’d been held by the Feds under suspicion of some heavy cons he’d run. He’d skipped on bail, however, disappeared, and Anna had wound up with the Guardians. She didn’t look like a happy person.
Her black hair had been pulled back into a tight bun. She had on a black suit and a bright red blouse stuck out from underneath. Horn-rimmed glasses made her eyes look too big for her face. She was doing a good job of hiding a healthy bank account.
“Mr. Larson?” She gave a fractional smile—a cold one.
Ah, doesn’t know if surfer dude is worth her time. Trent gave her a cocky grin, watching as she looked at his board shorts and mussed hair with disdain. “You the babe in charge?”
“Anna Neills. Mr. Myers is waiting for us in the conference room. This way, please.”
Trent gave Chloe another wink and followed Anna into a conference room that barely qualified as such. Yeah, the Guardians were trying to look as if every dime went to good causes.
Travis had made sure that there was a lot to be found online for Trent’s background check.
He was a rich kid who had inherited a surf-empire fortune and spent his days playing. He’d also asked Chloe to let folks know he was for the oceans. The meeting had been a snap to setup after that.
In the conference room, Bradley Myers looked up from a computer—it had a Power Point presentation showing up on a flat-screen TV. Bradley grinned, showing uneven teeth. He wore khaki pants, a camp shirt, boots, with a red scarf, of all things, tied around his neck. He at least looked friendly. “Mr. Larson, please come in and join us.”
“Dude, pretty fancy place you all have here.”
“We rely utterly on the generosity of our donors.”
Trent nodded. Well, that set the tone of asking for a hand out. He sat down and rocked back in his chair.
Anna Neills sat and folded her hands in front of her. She had long nails and the red polish matched her blouse. Trent had a hard time not thinking about the color of blood and Macbeth’s wife.
He turned back to Myers. “Chloe was like, telling me you were pretty involved in protecting the oceans from things like oil leaks. I’m looking to get on board with some of that action. No way I want to risk getting cancer from surfing in slicks.”
Myers nodded and managed to drop his wide smile. “If there were only more people who thought like you did, we wouldn’t have such a problem in this world. Chloe mentioned you were considering a sizable contribution?”
Trent let the question hang. “Dude, trust fund’s a bitch. I have to justify my dollars. They’re usually cool with charities, but I was thinking maybe a few million would be a good start. But I want to show them I could do more.”
Anna sat up. Seemed she liked the mention of money. She smiled. “Are you thinking of joining us on one of our expeditions?”
“Oh, that’d be awesome. But, man, I’m leaving for a trip through the Middle East in two weeks. Gonna be seeing what the surf’s like over there, y’know?”
Myers asked, “What countries were you planning to visit?”
“Dude, there’s a real little country—you know, like named after that Star Wars dude. Jar something.”
“Jawhara?”
“Yeah. That’s it. Man, the beaches are like totally white, and the waves are supposed to be like better than North Shore.” Anna and Myers stared at him. “Hawaii? The pipeline? Thirty foot monsters that make you feel like you fell off of a sky scraper? That’s for me, man. I’m in it for the rush.”
Myers tapped something on his phone. “Could you excuse us for a moment?”
“Sure, but, dude, I’m catching the evening set so I need to jet in like ten.”
“We’ll be right back,” Anna said. She wasn’t bad looking when she smiled.
Trent nodded and leaned back to rock in the chair again. Travis would be listening in on their discussion from the hidden mics.
A few minutes later they both came back in. Meyers sat down next to Trent. “We have a proposition for you.”
Trent glanced from Meyers to Anna. “Like, dude, I don’t swing that way. Only threesome I ever go for is two girls.”
Meyers blinked and blushed. Anna forced out a laugh. “So funny.” Her smile dropped. “Would you be open to carrying a few things with you to Jawhara on your trip?”
“Oh, well, sure.”
Meyers grinned. “Now…about that donation?”
Five minutes later, Trent left. He’d told them he didn’t do checks, but he’d given them his accountant’s number and told them the funds would be transferred tomorrow. They’d end up calling Slade’s accountant, and once they provided him with their banking information, Travis would be able to loo
k into their financial records.
They were one step closer to stopping whoever was using the Guardians to get rich. Trent gave Chloe a wink on his way out and another peace sign. He also started to hope it wasn’t a mistake to leave her working with these jerks.
Chapter 13
Chloe hadn’t sent for anything she’d left in storage, but Mrs. Smythson had sent her a few things with a note.
Thought you would want these.
The box included a photo of Chloe’s mother on horseback, her parent’s wedding album, her grandmother’s china tea set, and an apron Mrs. Smythson had made from Blue Bird flour sacks. Chloe teared up with a sudden longing for the ranch.
It’d be time to gather the young steers soon and ship them to market—not that they had any cows this year, but they’d always helped their neighbors as well as doing their own work. She ran her hand over the cracked binding of the photo album. She’d give it to her dad to keep—maybe it’d make him happier.
She’d visited him twice this week and found him surly and guff. He didn’t like his doctors—or rather, he didn’t like what they were telling him about how his days on horseback were done. He’d didn’t want to hear it, and started in on talking about how he was just here to die. She’d lit into him, telling him he was a selfish old man to be thinking that, and what about her, and wasn’t he interested in hanging around to maybe see some grandkids?
That made him sit up and Chloe found herself talking about Trent. Her dad had sat in his wheelchair and listened, and finally said, “You best bring that young man by for a visit.”
He was right. She should. Trent should know what he was getting into with her family.
Hanging the wedding photo up by her window, Chloe stood back to admire the image. They looked so happy. She glanced out and saw Trent opening the door to his place.
She headed outside and walked across the courtyard to Trent’s bungalow. She knocked on the screen door. When no one answered, she pulled open the screen and stuck her head inside. “Trent?”