Man Down

by Misty Evans

“If Chardy reserved this penthouse, does that mean you've swept it for bugs and cameras?"

  She was back to that. "Joey and I are religious about scrubbing the rooms between guests. There are more than a few spies who come through here, as you well know, and there's always the chance paparazzi or a private investigator might try to garner personal information by staying in a room and leaving something like that behind.”

  “Of course. Any spies I might know come through recently?”

  God, she was too nosy for her own good. “I have no idea how many spies you know, and most that stay here seek total anonymity, so I couldn’t share that information even if I had it.”

  She smiled smugly. “This place technically belongs to me—I am the heir to the DeMarco fortune and all its assets. The guest list isn’t confidential to me.”

  “Pretty sure it is unless you’ve given up your spying ways to come home and run the place.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t want me doing that.”

  “No argument there.”

  A narrowing of her eyes again suggested she would kick him if he were closer. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

  Sighing, but relieved she was dropping the Chardy thing, he reached into his back pocket, found a fifty, and tossed it at her. “You can use it to buy me dinner tonight.”

  Leaving his coffee untouched, he sauntered to the foyer. “The Winter Lights Hop open house is tomorrow night. You might see if Candace and Megan can use help with last minute details, Miss Owner.”

  “What is that?”

  “A new thing the Chamber of Commerce is doing to bring shoppers to the island for the holidays. Businesses decorate and offer a prize package of their goods or services and people hop up and down the island to enter the giveaways and finish their holiday shopping.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  He’d almost made his escape, convinced he’d diffused the issue about Chardy and put her mind on other things. He climbed into the elevator, and as he pushed the button to take him to the main floor, she waved at him. “Chardy looks familiar to me. I don’t know who he is, but I’ll find out.”

  He smiled reluctantly, feeling that old flame of desire flare again. That nosiness was damning, and he was going to have keep her away from Chardy, no matter what it took, or risk her screwing up his operation.

  And heaven be damned, he was actually looking forward to the challenge.

  Ghost surveillance

  * * *

  As soon Aidan left, Bree pulled out her phone and did a search on Etienne Chardy.

  She came up blank. There were plenty with the last name, even two with the first, but none fit the man staying below her. Was he using his real name? It wouldn't be the first time someone reserved a room under a false name. Plenty of rich and famous came here to get away from their hectic, public lives.

  Maybe that was why he looked familiar. He was someone in the public eye she’d seen or read about.

  A niggling feeling in her belly argued there was more to it. She wasn't sure why she cared, outside of the fact Aidan had gone to great lengths to pretend their guest was nobody to worry about. That very fact screamed at her. While Aidan’s poker face was one of the best she'd ever seen, she knew him on a level most didn't. Estranged or not, she’d always been able to tell when he was hedging or outright lying.

  In training, and in the field, no one had ever been able to spot his tells—the barely there signs he wasn't being forthright and honest—except her.

  He was an ace at subterfuge. One of the best she'd ever trained, maybe even as good as she was. Yet, she could tell, even after being away from him for the past two years, that he was hiding something.

  She'd seen it flicker in in his eyes before he could stamp it out, sense it in the tension between his shoulders, even though he’d tried to appear relaxed. If Mr. Chardy was nothing more than what Aidan claimed, why had he seemed determined to keep her in the dark about him?

  Sipping her coffee, she continued to dig, accessing social media, professional sites, and then, when she still couldn't find anything on the financier, she called Rory at SFI headquarters.

  “My favorite goddess," he greeted her. "What can I do for you, Hathor?”

  A retired spook who'd been one of the best assassins the CIA ever had, Rory was a legend in her book. He was listed by the Agency now as RED like her and Aidan but knew neither of them could hold a candle to the man. "I need information on a guest staying here.” She gave him the man’s—fake?— name and what little she knew about him. "I did several searches across the Internet and came up with zilch."

  “Something about him tickling your fancy?"

  "It's weak, but he seems vaguely familiar. I get an itch every time he talks to me. It's like he knows me, but I don't know him, and I think this name and identity are totally bogus."

  "Does that matter? I don't believe your assignment involves investigating guests, does it?"

  He knew it didn't. "I'm well aware of what my assignment entails but there’s something off and I want to know what it is. Will you humor me?"

  She heard typing in the background. "Never ignore the itch, I say. I’ll do some digging and get back to you if I find anything."

  “Can you keep this on the down-low for now?" The last thing she wanted was Beatrice to find out she was looking for trouble rather than making amends with her husband.

  "No guarantees, Hathor, but for you? I’ll do what I can. You know the Queen B has ESP, right?"

  It did seem that way. "I'm going to complete my assignment and make her a very happy woman. While I'm doing that, I might sniff out a bad guy. No harm in that, is there?"

  More typing. “Does seem suspicious the guy has nothing on the net. Talk soon."

  The connection ended and she tossed her phone on the couch next to her. Tonight she would recruit Aidan over dinner and drinks. She’d have to be on her best behavior and not rub it in about the fifty dollars and her always being right. In other words, wine him and dine him, and get him to agree to come back to DC and work for her boss.

  Piece of cake.

  It was the farthest thing from that, but she had to psych herself up. She'd had much harder assignments in the past.

  She unpacked her meager belongings, finished her coffee, and met up with Martin a little while later. He was very excited about the new investor—a brother and sister team in Paris who wanted to bring the DeMarco brand to Europe.

  “We'll start with one location on the Avenue Montaigne, along with our line of Rejuve spa lotions at all the major retail chains throughout France. I’m flying there Monday to meet with them and their board of directors.” He clapped his hands together, Princess Gracie dancing at his feet as if the excitement were for her. “Can you stay and run things until I get back?”

  “Stay?”

  “Don’t look so horrified. It will only be a few days, and Aidan told me you handled Etienne Chardy like an old pro. You’re a natural.”

  “Why did you give me his suite when he had it booked already?”

  Martin waved a hand in the air. “Family comes first. Don’t worry. If he’s still pissed, I’ll make it up to him. Now, tell me you’ll stay and take care of this family”—he pointed to the dog and then the building—“while I’m away. I need you here.”

  The DeMarco business was her grandparents’ legacy with locations in all of the top US cities. The Rejuve line of lotions, massage oils, and supplements capitalized on their elite clientele’s desire for endless youth and pampering. Bree still used the line to this day that her mother had developed when she was in her teens.

  But run this place? Even for such a short time? God only knew the damage she might do. “I don’t know, Uncle Martin.”

  Yes, she had training in the basics of how things worked having spent the majority of her youth growing up here. But she was no Martin DeMarco.

  “You can’t take a few extra days from your job to help me out?” He looked up at the ceiling as if searching He
aven for her mother. “Your daughter is going to give me a heart attack, Mary Rachel. She won’t even help her poor uncle out.”

  Bree rolled her eyes and playfully pinched his arm. “Stop that. You’re doing a great job and don’t need me.”

  He ran things from South Padre Island because it had been the founding spa her grandparents had built, his own childhood memories dear to him as well. Plus, he loved the weather. He made regular trips to the other locations, making sure each lived up to the DeMarco standard, but always lived here.

  She’d never been cut out for running one of the sites, much less the entire company, and thanked God every day her uncle had both a love for the business and a head for it.

  He scooped up Princess Gracie and scratched under her chin as they walked toward the dining room. “While you’re in charge, it’ll give you and Aidan time to work things out.”

  There was no working anything out, but she loved him for being as much of a romantic as her mother had been. “Why haven’t you ever married?” she asked.

  “No changing the subject.” He waggled a finger at her, his face stern. “You came down here to see Aidan, not your dear old uncle, and I insist you give that husband of yours another chance. You both deserve happiness and I can see the sparks fly every time the two of you are together.”

  She damn well was going to change it. “Your holiday decorations aren’t up to par for this weekend. This is an elite boutique spa and hotel. You don’t even have the tree up in the lobby.” In her youth, there’d always been a giant tree in the center of the check-in area, drawing attention to the amazing view of the Gulf. “No lights even in the atrium? It’s a disgrace.”

  He grinned broadly. “The tree and decorations are in the storage room. Have Miguel and Aidan help you get them out.”

  “You want me to put it up?”

  “It was always your mother’s favorite thing to do at the holidays.”

  He didn’t have to remind her. A sense of coming full-circle, putting up the tree and decorating it herself, washed over her. “Fine, but I’m also calling in some help to get this place ready for tomorrow night.”

  He came to a stop, facing her. His grin fell, but his eyes still danced. “How much is that going to cost me?”

  “Hey, you’re getting my services for free, so don’t complain.”

  “You’re staying?”

  “I make no promises.” She lifted her chin. “My boss has given me orders to return on Monday. I’ll do what I can to get an extension”—she was probably going to need it—“but I may not have a choice.”

  “I can speak to your boss if you’d like.”

  Oh hell no. “I’m thirty-two years old. I don’t need you running interference for me.”

  They reached the dining area. Through the beautiful French doors, she saw Etienne Chardy eating a salad.

  “You’re not taking Princess Gracie in there, are you?” she asked her uncle.

  “Why not?”

  She gave him a shocked look. “Can you say health code violation?”

  It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Do you see the health inspector here?”

  “What if one of the guests report you?”

  “And risk shutting this place down? Pul-lleazzz. Half of them bring their dogs, and those spoiled pooches accompany them to the dining room, down to the beach, everywhere!”

  Sometimes he could be overly dramatic. She took the Chihuahua from his arms, enjoying a royal lick from the little girl. “I’ll get Gracie some lunch. You speak to Mr. Chardy and make sure he’s truly okay with the room change. If not, I’ll pretend the plumbing is fixed and I’ll move down here by the infinity pool.”

  "Chardy will be fine. Don't worry about it. We have more catching up to do. I want to hear all about your job."

  His grin was teasing. She suspected he knew she couldn't talk about it, but liked to tease her endlessly. "I have a giant Christmas tree to put up and decorate. After lunch, you can help me."

  "I have the feeling you're avoiding me.”

  "I never would, but you know I can't tell you details about what I do or who I work for."

  He made an exasperated face. "You're working for the Agency again, aren't you? I knew it."

  Martin had been quite a few things in his day, including an undercover operative for the CIA for a brief period. He’d been the first she told when they recruited her while she was still in college. She'd never dreamed of working for them, but after gleaning information about one of her teachers for them, in conjunction with MI5, the spying gig had been in her blood.

  “They kicked me out, why would they hire me back?” It still irritated her. “More importantly, why would I ever want them to?”

  He nodded, seemingly appeased. “Why is it a secret, then? Is it the NSA? The Feds?"

  “None of the above. The group I work for is top notch, very close knit.” In fact, Beatrice referred to Shadow Force as a family, and it kind of was. An extraordinarily trained one specializing in highly secret paramilitary and undercover operations, but still, everyone was close. That was why her last failed mission ate at her so much. They’d almost lost Cassandra. “Everyone there has my back."

  "I worry about you, you know."

  She kissed his cheek and patted his arm. “There's no need to. I'm fine."

  Once he was inside the dining room chatting with Chardy, she withdrew her phone and pretended to text. She managed to get several shots of Chardy and sent them to Rory. Maybe facial recognition could pick up the man's identity.

  “What are you doing?"

  Startled, she whirled to find Aidan behind her. Princess Gracie gave a little bark and wagged her tail, delighted to see him and practically launching herself from Bree’s hold. “Oh my gosh, where did you come from?"

  He gave her the stink eye. “Were you just taking pictures of one of our guests?"

  Busted. Pulse tripping over itself, she pocketed the phone and tried to school her expression. He was so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. "I was taking one of my uncle enjoying himself at lunch. Is that okay with you?"

  His intense focus shifted to Chardy, back to her. She could see the wheels spinning in his head. Why did he care if she was?

  Unless there was something going on with that guest he wasn't admitting to. Bingo.

  She didn't give him time to answer her question or probe for proof on her phone. “Uncle Martin said you and Miguel could help me get the Christmas tree out of storage. We need to get this place shaped up for the Winter Lights Hop. First, I have to feed Princess Gracie, so I'll meet you two in the lounge across from the receptionist desk in twenty minutes."

  "Christmas tree?" He sounded incredulous.

  "Yes," she said, heading down the hallway. “And don't forget the boxes of decorations. There should be five or six of them," she called over her shoulder.

  Before she turned the corner, she glanced back. Aidan was still standing there, as unmoving as the shadows, staring after her.

  In the next twenty minutes, she fed the dog, had Megan call the local florist, and managed to resist bugging Chardy’s room. Aidan would catch her on camera, no doubt. Surely he had them in all the hallways, the elevators, and stairs. She could sneak off her balcony and try slipping down a floor to Chardy’s, but that was better done under the cover of night and Aidan no doubt had alarms on all the entrances and exits.

  When she finally made it to the lobby, she saw the tree was already up. Miguel was opening the decorations and Candace had wandered over to help.

  She glanced around, but there was no Aidan. Had he intentionally slipped away so he wouldn’t have to do this?

  “The florist will be here shortly with the fresh wreath and pine boughs you ordered,” Megan said as she hustled by. “I’ll help as soon as I make sure Reba you-know-who gets her power shake.”

  Bree set Princess Gracie down who immediately began sniffing at the base of the tree. “Is Loretta still running the island florist?” she asked Candace
.

  Candace pulled out a roll of wide silver ribbon. “Yep! No slowing her down. She’s just like your uncle and loves running her own business. Megan caught her right before she was leaving to make deliveries—I guess a lot of the shops are sprucing up for the hop too. She’s got two buckets of extra pine and spruce boughs she said would be perfect for the fireplace mantel, and the wreath is one from her own shop’s door. She said it would look better on our front desk.”

  Loretta had been a friend of Bree’s mother. “She’s still working full-time then?”

  Candace nodded. “She lives for that place. Her daughter bought the building next door and has an interior design business in it. She keeps an eye on Loretta and they share clientele. Usually, it’s just Tom making deliveries, but Loretta said they have so many today, she’s doing a few herself.”

  Bree put Miguel on light duty and had Candace lay out all of the ribbons on the nearby couches. Outside, a fine drizzle began, and several people who’d been walking the beach came hustling in. Candace grabbed towels from the massage rooms, Bree turned on the fireplace, and the guests offered to help with the decorating. Bree began unpacking the boxes of ornaments.

  Over the speakers, Christmas music took the place of piano tunes, and Joey came walking in a minute later, asking her if that was okay. Everyone said yes, and Bree had him help Miguel with the lights.

  A little while later, Condor, the chef, brought a tray of frosted sugar cookies and cups of hot cocoa. Bree invited the man to join them, and he did, telling stories about Christmas in his hometown in Nigeria and sneaking tiny pieces of sugar cookie to the dog.

  Loretta showed up with the greens, wreath, and more ribbon. She also gave a beautiful holiday arrangement to Megan, who blushed when she read the card. Candace oohed and aahed over it, and Megan said under her breath, “They’re from Aidan!”

  Both women giggled together, their backs to Bree, but she heard them. Candace snuck a glance at her, and Bree pretended to be busy hugging Loretta.

  Loretta accepted a cookie and a cup of cocoa and praised them on the decorations they already had up. “Your mama always loved the silver bells theme," she said. Her hair was long and gray, but beautiful. “She'd be so proud to see you carrying on her tradition."