Watch Me (Alpha Four, Book 3)

by Mia Dymond

  “Were you competitive with your siblings?”

  “Of course,” he said as another ball bounced off his bat. “We all had a standing bet. Loser did everybody else’s chores.”

  “How often did you win?”

  “Often.” He grinned while the last ball left the pitching machine. “I hated washing dishes.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should’ve made a competition out of this.”

  “You mean like whoever hit the most balls buys dinner?”

  She nodded while all kinds of naughty alternatives crowded her brain. “Something like that.”

  He lowered his bat and reached for hers. As soon as his fingers grazed hers, an electric shock fluttered her heart and those alternatives threatened to loosen her tongue.

  His gaze darkened as it met hers. “You hit all your pitches.”

  “So did you.”

  He rested his free hand on her hip. “Well then, I think we should both be rewarded.”

  “Absolutely,” she murmured.

  His lips met hers almost as soon as the agreement left her mouth and she basked in the utter contentment of the touch. Who knew there were so many pleasure points on her lips? As he moved his mouth over hers, her pulse skittered as he knew exactly when and where to apply pressure. Kissing this man gave true meaning to pleasure.

  She almost cried when it ended.

  “I’ll buy dinner,” he said as he lifted his lips.

  She smiled. “If I had realized that’s all it took to convince you, I would’ve kissed you earlier.”

  “I’m easy.” He smirked as he picked up both helmets and bats with one hand and opened the cage. “After you.”

  As soon as he checked in the equipment with the clerk, he grasped her hand and they headed to the parking lot.

  “How well do you really know Christopher Remington?” he asked as they approached his truck.

  “Pretty well, I guess. Like I told you, we spent a lot of time together when we were kids.”

  “How much time?”

  “Every day as children. We lived next door to each other and all the kids in the neighborhood congregated after school and on weekends. We all went our separate ways, though, after high school. Christopher attended the University of Florida; I went to Vanderbuilt.”

  He pressed the remote to unlock the doors. “Did you stay in touch while you were there?”

  “Occasionally. Mostly when I came home.” She tilted her head to one side. “Do you think he has something to do with the sabotage?”

  “He’s on my list of suspects,” he admitted as he opened the door and extended a hand to help her inside. “Would you say he’s a spiteful person?”

  “Not to my knowledge. He’s never acted like it to me or my family.”

  “He needs Kensworth’s support for his project and he hasn’t gotten it. Do you think that would cause retaliation?”

  Silence passed between them for several seconds while she wondered if she could deny the notion any longer. Both her friends and Ace had a valid point – one she couldn’t push away again.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally.

  “Something tells me you might agree.”

  “Christopher takes his position at EF Chemicals very seriously. If his project fails, he will take it personally.” She settled back against the seat. “I don’t want to believe he’d go to this extent, but I really don’t know.”

  “We’re going to tour the port tomorrow.”

  Her facial muscles relaxed into a soft smile. “Good. Maybe you’ll put us both at ease.”

  “Believe me, sweetheart,” he said softly as he stroked his fingers down the side of her face, “I’m going to do everything in my power to put you at ease.”

  ***

  He released a hard breath as he once again paced the floor of his inner sanctum, pissed off to no end that he still had loose ends to deal with. His patience had all but disappeared and now it was time for direct action. He took a deep breath and willed his muscles to unclench, genuinely baffled by the stall of his objective. He could think of no logical reason why the wheels weren’t already in motion to move things along.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he stopped in mid-step to answer. He knew better than to keep his associate in the dark; even frustrated, he preferred life to death.

  His associate’s greeting was not unexpected. “What is the problem?”

  “I’ve done everything possible to prompt their cooperation but they remain steadfast in their position.”

  “The key is to penetrate the inner circle.”

  “With all due respect, that is impossible.” He didn’t mention that his hesitation to challenge the target had everything to do with the hired muscle. “I’ve already aroused suspicion.”

  “Excellent.”

  The other man’s response surprised him. “Suspicion is acceptable?”

  “As long as you’ve pointed it in the adequate position.”

  He hadn’t really thought about that angle. He released a long, slow breath to ease his anger. Things weren’t so bad after all.

  “I have.”

  “And you have begun preparations for the final blow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you arranged for clean-up of the casualties?”

  “I plan to put things in place this evening.”

  “There can be no error. I suggest you make a dry run.”

  He didn’t have to read between the lines to intercept the directive. “Of course.”

  “I am impressed by your tenacity. Your work will clear the way for future success.”

  “Thank you. I only wish it hadn’t taken so much time.”

  His associate released a low chuckle. “Patience remains a key component of any operation. Surely you have learned that by now.”

  “Yes,” he quickly agreed, relieved he didn’t appear to be under scrutiny for the lag in time. “I’ll notify you as soon as the deal is closed.”

  “I’ll send a crew upon your call.”

  He disconnected the call while his confidence level heightened. Apparently, it was no surprise to the other man that there had been obstacles to the timeline and for that he was relieved. He knew from experience that his associate was somewhat fickle; it wasn’t often that he kept his reaction constant.

  He allowed himself a satisfied smile. It wouldn’t be long before he could bring the operation to a close and wallow in his success.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning, Ace stood beside his teammates in the parking lot of the Everglade Springs Shipping Port, ready to storm the place for answers and bring all the craziness to an end. He knew from experience that the four of them could take the place with one arm tied behind their backs but unfortunately that plan made no sense. Nothing they had pointed directly at Remington and for now he’d have to settle for a scouting mission.

  He moved his gaze around the perimeter, taking stock of what they had to work with. The main building, still under construction and now two stories tall, occupied the majority of land space, surrounded by a gravel parking lot on one side and a long, wooden dock he judged to be about fifty feet long on the other. Presently empty, boat slips were carved into the dock and large enough to accommodate vessels ranging from speedboats to cargo ships. Obviously Remington expected the port to handle a large demand for shipped goods.

  He noticed several doors had been added for entry to and exit from the building. The outside had been left bare, free of landscaping; if they did storm the place, there would be no cover. He smirked. Since when did that ever stop them? Besides, Remington most likely already knew they were there.

  He rested his hand on his weapon secured in the holster on his hip and moved his gaze onto his teammates, all three of them focused on the issue at hand. As usual, Rebel had been the first one to arrive and map out the perimeter. He had no doubt that the tracker had covered every inch of the area like a prowling panther, distinct and methodical in his approach, a
nd committed every single detail to memory. With his trademark Aviators over his eyes, Chaos stood with his arms crossed across his chest, his usual impatient, murderous expression in place. No doubt, Chaos would rather just blow up the place. Thunder, also known for this non-nonsense tactic, appeared ready to charge the compound like a raging bull. He knew from experience that the captain wasn’t big on explanations; he wouldn’t stop to ask questions. Personally, his fingers itched for the trigger of his sniper’s rifle. His index finger had worn a perfect groove into the mechanism; a gentle squeeze was all it took to obliterate a target. The problem this time however, was that the target was undefined.

  Thunder broke his silent analysis when he tucked his weapon in the back of his waistband and spoke. “Do we have movement inside?”

  “Affirmative.” Rebel leaned on one hip against the captain’s truck. “Remington and a handful of other suits, along with six or seven contractors.”

  “Anyone need a refresher on the layout?”

  Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Chaos grimace – just a faint, almost non-existent flinch, but he saw it. Considering Kat had been held hostage there, he and Chaos knew the layout best. Damn, flashbacks were a bitch.

  “No,” he answered for the other two men. “I think we’re good.”

  Thunder nodded. “Chaos will stay out here in case things get sticky. We’ll crash the party.”

  Ace led the way inside the building, satisfied when he was able to confront Remington almost immediately. His earlier assumption that their arrival had been discovered appeared to be wrong; the look of utter shock on the other man’s face made the whole ambush worthwhile.

  Ace gave him a slight nod. “Remington.”

  “Hello, gentlemen.” He extended a hand to each of them one by one. “I wasn’t aware you planned to drop by this morning.”

  “We were in the neighborhood.” He shook Remington’s hand and then gave a lazy shrug, as if the whole mission were spontaneous. “Is your invitation still good?”

  “Of course! I’d be glad to give you a tour.” Ace didn’t miss the sweat droplets that danced on the other man’s forehead. “Follow me.”

  Remington turned on one heel and quickly led them through a set of double doors, obviously attempting to discreetly hurry them through the place. Ace snickered under his breath. Fat chance. He intended to spend every minute at the port he could, if only to make Remington sweat.

  A chill climbed his vertebrae staircase as they entered a large, stale room with a concrete floor – the same room that had once been used as Kat’s prison. The barrels that once lined the interior had been removed and several new walls had been constructed. As bad as he hated to do it, he needed to broach the subject.

  He cleared his throat. “Has this room been remodeled?”

  “Yes,” Remington answered. “Unfortunately, we had an incident not too long ago that required us to re-work the area.”

  Ace went straight for the jugular. “I’m familiar with the incident.” Too familiar. “Are you?”

  “Not personally. Carley gave me specifics, but I was called in after the conclusion.”

  Thunder continued the onslaught. “Did you know the suspect?”

  “Actually, yes. Mr. Hawthorne and I served on several committees together.”

  “Unfortunate that he made the decision to end things here.”

  “Quite. We’ve taken measures to assure security is tightened, especially since we plan to extend the layout.”

  Remington led them deeper into the building into an area under construction where contractors banged hammers in sync. From the size of the framed areas, Ace assumed they would be office space.

  “These are the new executive offices,” Remington explained. “The production area will be confined to the back of the building.”

  Ace frowned. “Doesn’t your company have its own offices?”

  “Currently we do. However, since our company exports the majority of goods in the area we’ve decided to relocate onsite. We feel the operation can be better monitored with a more hands-on approach.”

  Hands-on. Yeah, he was familiar with the concept.

  “We might be able to help you out with security,” Rebel offered. “We have access to some sophisticated systems.”

  Ace noticed Remington’s shoulders sag in what he interpreted as relief. The sucker fell for Rebel’s game hook, line and sinker.

  “I’d be quite interested in discussing the possibility with you.”

  Thunder nodded. “I’ll email you some information.”

  “Will the public have access to the port’s facilities?” Ace shifted the conversation back to a fact-finding mission.

  “Yes.” Remington pointed up above them. “The upper level is a storage facility. Merchandise can be stored for shipment until the appropriate vessel arrives for transport or delivery.”

  “Why would it need to be stored?”

  “Just like air transport, water transport operates on a schedule. Otherwise, we’d end up with a very inconvenient traffic jam.”

  “So there are things other than liquids shipped through here.”

  “Oh, yes. Everything from fertilizer to fine art.”

  “International goods, as well?”

  Remington nodded.

  “How is that monitored?”

  “The cargo passes through customs before entering the United States but we’re required to log each shipment as a precautionary measure.”

  “This is quite an operation. I can see now why you need more space.”

  “The expansion will benefit a variety of other companies as well. EF Chemicals may ship a larger quantity of product, but others will follow suit and increase their business.”

  He decided to see just how open Remington would be. “Have you received positive feedback from the community?”

  “For the most part. We’re doing everything we can to assure the public of the positive benefit we’re offering.”

  “What happens if you don’t receive cooperation?”

  “I don’t expect any problems at all.”

  Ace lifted an eyebrow. Cocky sonuvabitch.

  “But if you do encounter resistance?” Rebel pressed.

  Remington shrugged. “We’ll work on a compromise.”

  “Good plan.”

  Ace decided he’d save his interrogation for later. Besides, in his mind the vote wouldn’t pass and then he’d get to witness Remington’s compromise firsthand.

  “Thanks for showing us around.” He extended a hand. “We’ll be in touch about the security system.”

  Remington returned the handshake just as his cell phone rang. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  “We can find the way out,” Ace told him.

  Once they congregated back at the captain’s truck, Ace didn’t waste any time voicing his thoughts on the meeting.

  “I can tell you right now that the vote will not pass. Call it a gut feeling, but Remington’s got a big disappointment coming his way.”

  Thunder smirked. “Obviously he thinks there’s a way around it.”

  “Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but did Remington seem nervous to you?”

  “Absolutely,” the captain agreed. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t point out that we seem to have that effect on people.”

  Rebel chuckled. “Even so, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  Ace agreed with his friend’s observation, but one possibility did cross his mind. “He said international shipments are logged. A quick review of the logs would tell us what’s come through in the past week.”

  “You think he’s stupid enough to list scorpions on that list?”

  He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. I’m sure Mr. Kensworth wouldn’t hesitate to ask for the paperwork.”

  The crunch of gravel caused him to glance at the driveway that led to the building where a four-door, black sedan with tinted windows approached.

  “First car all morning,” Chaos mumbled.


  He waited patiently for the driver to exit, suspicious when the occupant remained inside the vehicle. Seconds later, Remington exited the building, approached the driver’s side, and bent in front of the window.

  “Can you see the tag, Rebel?”

  “Got it,” his teammate answered. “I’ll run it on my phone.”

  While he waited for Rebel to fill them in on the owner of the sedan, he continued to watch Remington converse with the driver in a seemingly normal manner; he still thought it strange that no one left the car. Remington finally stood, gave a hearty laugh, waved at the window, and then re-entered the building. The driver backed up the car and then headed the same way in which he entered.

  “Short and sweet,” Thunder said under his breath.

  Rebel looked up from his phone and twisted his lips. “Owner’s name is Everglade Rentals.”

  “Private investor?” Chaos took the words right out of his mouth.

  “Could be,” Rebel agreed. “I didn’t hear the conversation but it couldn’t have had much depth. The guy was only here a minute or so.”

  “Four doors leads me to believe there was more than one occupant, but the tint was too heavy to confirm,” Thunder pointed out.

  Chaos nodded. “All we know for sure is that someone, driver or otherwise, is from out of town. Could be something, could be nothing.”

  “I’ll contact Carley’s grandfather about the shipping logs,” Ace told them. “Meanwhile, I’m scheduled to help Carley set up for the Ball.”

  Rebel nodded. “Chaos and I will continue digging for information on investors.”

  “I’ll catch you guys later.” Thunder rounded the truck to the driver’s side. “I’ve got something to check on.”

  “Or someone,” Rebel mumbled.

  Ace bit his lip. Whether or not he would admit it, the captain had it bad. “Don’t forget your tux,” he told him. “The Governor’s Ball starts tomorrow evening, twenty hundred hours.”