by Stella Kelly
TROPICAL SAFEGUARD
A Romantic Suspense by STELLA KELLY
Also by STELLA KELLY:
Men Of The Secret Service Series
Alpine Safeguard
Capital Safeguard
Chief Distraction
Tropical Safeguard
Copyright: Stella Kelly
Published: 1st July, 2013
Publisher: WordCarver Inc.
The rights of author Stella Kelly are in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or copied in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.
Chapter One
The Winters’ Escape mansion perched on the edge of the ocean. The large windows in the classic Bermuda architecture offered a stunning view of endless sky and turquoise water; a view that lifted the spirits of those privileged enough to see it.
And now, the secluded mansion was Katrina Turner’s sanctuary, her saving grace. Six months ago she’d been running for her life. When a friend mentioned that Mr. and Mrs. Winters were looking for a private Pilates instructor to live nine months at their mansion, Katrina jumped at the chance. Isolation, silence, and high security – it sounded too good to be true.
Sitting in lotus position on the private beach, Katrina closed her eyes and let the sun kiss her face in bright warmth as she let out a slow easy breath. Refocusing on the clear blue water, a gentle breeze blew the wisps of hair that had fallen from her loose ponytail. The water was calm today despite the breeze, like opaque aquamarine glass. She counted four sailboats on the distant horizon and was instantly reminded of her parent’s passion for sailing. She missed them greatly and worried for their safety on a daily basis. Her past choices had put them in danger and guilt festered in the pit of her stomach.
In her silent contemplation, Katrina’s mind drifted into dark territory. She couldn’t shake her uneasiness as paranoia infected her thoughts. Despite her relaxed pose and calm veneer, internally she was crumbling. The peaceful spell of her early morning meditation was already broken. These days, it didn’t take much to pull her back to the fears of the recent past.
Getting up, Katrina shook the sand from her towel and slipped on her sandals. Slinging a small backpack over her shoulder, she trudged up the switchback staircase and wound her way down the paved path that twisted through the lush green golf coarse. This place was like an oasis, a paradise – but it wasn’t home. Since leaving New York abruptly after the incident, a real sense of home had eluded her.
He’d done that.
He’d taken her feelings of security away with each seething comment, each painful blow. Since she’d left him, secretly escaping in the dead of night, her confidence had slowly returned. She took pride in her classes and the flow of her daily routine, relishing the rawness of her new freedom. But, staying here forever was a fool’s dream, and the uncertainty of her future was terrifying. He was always one step behind.
<><><>
The private jet set down on the hot black tarmac at Bermuda’s L.F. Wade Airport just before noon. Agent Cole Nielsen, Secret Service with the United States Government, checked his watch before peering out the small oval window. He spotted the assigned vehicles waiting at a distance, right on schedule. His senses would be heightened this week while guarding the dignitaries and their families, though not nearly as heightened as other assignments. This was a family holiday after all. Priding himself on his usual steadfast professionalism, Cole hoped to steal a moment or two of tranquility between shifts at the mansion. The stress of his father’s Parkinson’s was taking a toll on him mentally and this assignment couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a much needed perk.
The plane taxied before coming to rest beside the awaiting SUVs. The purring engines trailed off to a low buzz as the nine passengers unlatched their safety belts. Cole stood up first and straightened his tie, feeling far too tired for a man in his early thirties. He buttoned his light grey suit jacket, covering the holstered gun at his waist. He had to duck slightly so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling of the opulent cabin. At his height, he’d had his share of bumps and bruises.
His seasoned colleague, Agent Thomas Kensing, rose at the front of the plane and turned to face the passengers. Raising his hands, he cleared his throat before addressing everyone in his trademark low rasp. “Just give us a minute for a security clearance, folks.” His demeanor was direct. It was a demand, not a request. Cole was reminded of Dirty Harry, minus the cool. The passengers obeyed, though they looked anxious to stretch and exit the snug private plane after the lengthy flight.
“Why can’t we just get going? I’m starved and I wanna go swimming,” Cole heard the older teenage boy whine under his breath as Agent Kensing released the front door of the plane and pushed down the foldable staircase.
“It’s for your own safety, Zach, remember that. Patience,” the teen’s father turned to answer. Cole noticed the boy roll his eyes. Teenagers, gotta love ‘em.
Walking to the front of the plane, Cole stood at attention by the door, watching Agent Kensing question a few airport workers who were mulling around outside.
“He sure is thorough,” commented James Mitchell, The Secretary of State as he leaned over his small eleven-year-old son, Jimmy, to peer out the window. Cole noted a hint of annoyance hiding in the man’s words and he had to admit, the feeling was mutual.
“He’s quite a stickler, Sir.” Cole smiled and tried to ease the creeping tension Agent Kensing was causing the group. “Shouldn’t be long now. Just precautions.”
Cole yearned to spill his guts about the agent he’d been saddled with this week. They’d never worked together before, but Agent Kensing’s reputation preceded him. Every agent knew the rumors; the thirty-year veteran was notoriously inflexible and consistently froze under pressure. Clearly he was bound for retirement soon.
Agent Kensing gave the thumbs up from the tarmac. Cole chuckled and shook his head, remembering the rumored nickname his colleague had been given. Agent Prickly. The name fit like a glove.
“Okay, everyone, we’re clear,” Cole announced.
“Yay!” Jimmy jumped to his feet. The boy was eager, all scrawny and slight like his father. His wide grin and open face resembled the Peter Pan archetype and Cole instantly liked him. The other two boys followed Jimmy’s lead, jumping up and gathering their backpacks, pulling down baseball hats and giving each other light punches in the shoulder for good measure. Cole watched them jostle for position, reminded of his teen years in Manhattan, which now seemed like a lifetime ago.
The two SUVs followed each other closely off the tarmac. Cole accompanied Secretary Mitchell, Jimmy, and the nanny named Trudy in one. The other carried Agent Kensing, Deputy Secretary Edward Greenbaum, his wife Helene, and their sons Zach and Noah. Looking out the window during the twenty-minute drive, Cole admired the sherbet colored colonial cottages lining the rugged shoreline, the pastel painted shutters and picket fences like a throwback to simpler times. They passed a nature reserve and several lush golf courses before travelling west on South Road past the Botanical Gardens, the grounds overflowing with lush vegetation, the likes of which Central Park could only dream of possessing.
“We’ll have to do some golfing while we’re here, hey Sport? I’ll teach you a few things,” Secretary Mitchell said to his son.
“Does Mr. Winters have his own golf course, Dad?” Jimmy asked, sounding amazed at the prospect.
“Yep, and we can golf as much as our heart’s content.”
Cole could tell The Secretary was down to earth, unlike mo
st of the dignitaries he’d guarded. Some you win, some you lose. Jimmy was a lucky kid to have such a loving, attentive father. Not everyone has that. Cole knew he’d had it, that he’d been one of the lucky ones.
<><><>
Back at the mansion, the hot water covered Katrina like a blanket, trickling down her body toward the drain. She wished the water could wash her chronic worries away. Even with all of her meditation sessions, there remained a festering, nagging ache of unresolved conflict. She washed the conditioner from her hair and turned off the water, still lost in thought. How long would she have to live in fear, wondering if he would ever find her here on an island in the middle of the ocean? Katrina wished the island itself could become the Bermuda triangle and keep all outsiders at bay.
Toweling off, she made her way into the sizable bedroom. Shimmying on her underwear, she pulled her wet hair back into a low knot and put on khaki shorts and a simple white tank. She slipped on her sandals and looked around the spacious room. Although she would have preferred her own place and missed the elegant apartment she’d shared in New York, anything was better than being back there with him. Hell, she’d take a cardboard box over that living arrangement. Dismissing the thought, she left to join the other staff members. Thrown together, the staff had become a quaint little family, filling a desperate need in Katrina that they were unaware of. She hadn’t told them her reasons for being here. Hadn’t dared. She wasn’t one to trust others easily. Not now.
She heard the clang of pots and plates before entering the grand kitchen. Personal chef Jacque Lisse whirled left and right, his head down and his hands busy creating delectable fresh masterpieces. Katrina leaned against the fridge with crossed arms, watching him in awe. It amazed her that such a robust man could move so quickly. Jacque had spent most of his youth learning from the most renowned master chefs in France. With his gourmet foundation and his passion, Jacque’s creations could easily be described as heaven on the tongue and since her first bite on the very first day, Katrina was hooked.
Looking up, Jacque momentarily froze when he spotted her as a wide smile stretched across his round face. He crinkled his large nose before winking and carrying on with his task in haste. “My Dear, you are glowing. Got some sun this morning I see.” His French accent was as familiar to Katrina as his signature dishes.
She walked forward and leaned against the long, marble island. “Smells good, Jacque. What’s on the lunch menu today?”
He chopped an onion at lightening speed, the movement mesmerizing. “Harissa-spiked tuna tartare and rockfish in kaffir lime-leaf sauce. The fish were caught this morning.”
“Wow, sounds tremendous.”
“Mais oui, only the best.”
“The dignitaries should be arriving soon. Do you need any help?”
Stopping mid chop, he stared her down with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed. “Really, Kat, you know me by now. You are so sweet to ask, but I have it under control. I am, as always, a one-man show. Just relax and get ready for these flavors to knock your socks off…if you were wearing any.”
“I can’t wait. I’ll round up Gloria and let her know what we’re having. I think she’s putting the finishing touches on the guestrooms.”
“No, no, sit for a minute. Gloria will come when she smells the meal. The aroma is always like an invisible finger drawing you closer. It is my free advertising.”
Perching on a stool at the island, she studied him. “So, how many Secret Service agents are coming?” Trying to sound casual to hide her apprehension, the idea of being scrutinized was far too alarming considering her reasons for being in Bermuda.
“Two, and I hope they blend into the background, though that is probably asking the impossible.”
“Hmm, you’re probably right. Anyone other than the Winters will take some getting used to,” Katrina said. She worried that their security checks would detect her quick, unexplained departure from New York. “It was so great of Mr. Winters to extend an invitation to his old college friend. And to think he’s The Secretary of State. I feel so honored to be here with him.”
“And I feel honored to cook for him and his family and friends. Gloria says The Secretary is a widower of over three years. Since you’re both available, maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams this week and become the next First Lady someday.”
Katrina grinned shyly, “I’m not on the market, Jacque.”
“But I thought you were single?”
“I am, and I intend to stay that way indefinitely. I’ve sworn off men for a while. I’ve had my share of bad luck in that department.”
Jacque clucked his tongue and dug around in the oversized fridge. “You are a beautiful woman and any man will be lucky. When you are ready, ma cherie, when you are ready,” he complimented over his shoulder. He straightened with an armload of ginger, garlic, and cilantro. “He is out there somewhere, living his life and waiting for you.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Katrina said. Hopping off the stool, she waltzed to the large picture window overlooking the ocean. She stared out blankly, shuddering. Someone was out there, all right – waiting to harm her. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Winters had a safe trip to Africa. How long is their safari again?”
“Three weeks. So having Mr. Winters’ friend here for the week will distract us from too much silence. Otherwise we’d be awfully lonely with no one to share our talents.”
“Some peace and quiet does sound nice though,” Katrina said aloud, but she knew too much silence would only lead to unpleasant thoughts.
Jacque sighed, “Yes, silence. To be honest, I was looking forward to some quiet around here too. I want to start assembling a cookbook. The time is right. You and Gloria can be my testers.” He whisked the sauce and tasted it with a pudgy finger. “Magnifique!”
“I know, but whenever Mr. and Mrs. Winters aren’t around, I always feel a little guilty that I have no Pilates classes or meditation sessions to teach. It’s a lot of waiting around and our salaries are, well, you know.”
“Incroyable? Oui, I am aware. But Monsieur Winters can afford it. Trust me, he is a billionaire I suspect. And his college friend, The Secretary, he comes from very old money too. They went to private school together before college. I’ve heard they have much history.”
“I hope the dignitaries are friendly and want to exercise. I guess I could offer them some message sessions too.”
“I understand you’ll have a couple of ladies and some teenage boys to teach.”
“Come on, Jacque, do you really think a few teenage boys will be interested in Pilates?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t offer the boys any massage sessions if I were you,” Jacque winked and laughed. “I will sympathize with you if you sympathize with me. What are the chances they will be interested in anything but hot dogs and cheeseburgers? I’ll have to tone down my repertoire this week.”
“Don’t tone it down on my account, ever. I love your passion in the kitchen.”
“You are so kind, ma cherie. It has been lovely having you around the mansion these past six months. We will bond together and get through this group of visitors. This week should pass quickly I hope.”
“Wishful thinking, Jacque, wishful thinking.”
Gloria strode in wearing a wide smile. Her petite rounded frame bounced with each step. Her boundless energy coupled with an easy-going vibe always inspired Katrina. “Mmm, smells wonderful!”
“Told you she would arrive,” Jacque said as Katrina smiled and shook her head, thoroughly impressed. “Well aren’t you chipper my dear!”
“I’m chipper for good reason. I have the rest of the afternoon to relax. My job here is done until I turn down the beds. The house is spotless, the rooms are prepared, and I just got a call from my daughter that she’s met the boy of her dreams. Life is good.”
Katrina took a seat at the island again and Gloria followed. “How old is Maisa again?”
“Twenty-one. The same age I was when I met her father.”
&nbs
p; “Ah yes, twenty-one. I remember those days like yesterday. Back in Paris, back when I was without this…” Jacque pointed down to his protruding belly.
“How do you feel about her revelation?” Katrina asked. She hoped the young man Maisa had chosen was worthy, but then again, does a woman really know? She thought she’d chosen wisely only to be conned by her ex’s savvy reputation and deceiving charm. He began their relationship with roses, wine, fine dining, and plenty of positive attention that had soured the minute she’d agreed to move in with him. From that point, a harsh comment here, a judgmental remark there, and her confidence had slowly degraded until she was a shell of her former strong self.
“I think she’s a grown woman now and I have to accept her decisions – but I still worry. At least he has a promising job. Not like the last guy.”
Jacque slid the plates into the warmer. “So you are smiling and happy, yet I still see lines of worry on your forehead.” He frowned and shrugged his shoulders, “What is a mother to do?”
“I know what will take those worry lines away. A good meditation session with me on the beach,” Katrina said with enthusiasm.
“But you just got back from the beach.”
“Listen, the group will be arriving any moment and lunch won’t be served for forty-five minutes. We have plenty of time.”
Gloria stared. Katrina could tell she was tempted. “Well, I could use some meditation to clear my mind and put everything into perspective. Let’s do it.”
“I will be thinking of you ladies as I whip this kitchen into a frenzy. Ah, je suis fou!” Jacque clapped his hands and rubbed them in readiness. “And please, don’t be late for lunch.”
Chapter Two
The SUVs pulled up to the iron security gate and Damien, the driver of Cole’s vehicle, punched in a code. The gate slowly receded and both SUVs entered the long winding driveway. Cole gawked at the lavish landscaping that led to a sprawling golf course at the right of the grand mansion. He could easily be a tourist here, but this was business. From the passenger seat, he scanned the perimeter of the grounds, making a mental note of the stone wall and the security cameras hiding in the foliage at the gate. Looking in the side mirror, he counted how long it took the rot-iron gate to close behind the second SUV.