She encouraged everyone to take it seriously but to have fun. “I’m going to turn it over to Jax and Kaycee now to give you more details on how we’ll handle the selection process. Make sure you’re well-rested because interviews will start bright and early tomorrow morning. You need to be at your best to wow the judges.”
The girls stood and shouted as she waved and then disappeared out the door. It should concern her that the first thing she did was search for Gage. She instantly relaxed when she spotted his tall form moving toward her. She smiled, and he smiled back. Oh, no. She was in serious trouble.
Dozens of people hustled about, most needing her for one thing or another. It was a good hour before they left. She clutched Gage’s arm, still wired after greeting the contestants. Their enthusiasm fueled hers and reminded her of the time when modeling had been her life. They were excited to bring their dreams to fruition, and it made her happy that she could help them achieve their goals.
At one time, she’d felt the same way, but her dreams had since expanded. She’d come up with the idea to create her line of dresses years ago. She kept a diary of designs and notes on features she liked or disliked. Her goal was to produce haute couture gowns and dresses that were affordable for the average woman. Her long-term objective was to include shoes and handbags.
The idea for a show to discover the next supermodel came about a few years ago when she held a camp for girls from disadvantaged areas. She taught them about makeup and hair, and they soaked up information like a sponge. It occurred to her that not everyone would have a mother who could pave the way for them. Brooklyn had been lucky. It was time to give back.
When everything started to come together, the first person she approached was Jax. She’d worked with him on shoots dozens of times over the years, which is how they’d become close friends. He was creative and talented, and she knew it was crucial to the show’s success to bring him on board. He’d agreed before she finished outlining the details.
Kaycee Norwood had been one of Brooklyn’s mentors when she started. Seven years older, she was already a seasoned veteran when Brooklyn walked her first runway. Kaycee’s strut was legendary, and she’d helped Brooklyn develop her style. They’d been good friends since.
Brooklyn was on a high, holding onto the most attractive man she’d ever met. She didn’t want the night to end. Tomorrow would be a long, grueling day, but it was still early, and they hadn’t eaten yet. She had an idea. “You want to add some fuel to the dating rumors?”
#
Gage’s gut clenched. She was talking about their first official date/non-date. “Sure.”
“How about dinner at one of the trendiest restaurants in the city? Paparazzi hang out there waiting for a celeb sighting.”
This was the part of the assignment he loathed. He didn’t want his picture taken and splashed all over the gossip sites. Let his bosses handle the red carpets with their superstar wives. He was perfectly content to stay in the background. Still, it was his obligation for this gig. “Sounds good.”
She made a couple of phone calls, and as soon as they exited Fontana Towers, a car idled at the curb. The driver stood with the back door open for them. Brooklyn greeted him by name as he assisted her inside. Gage slid in after her. Before the driver closed the door, she gave him the name of the restaurant.
“I thought it went well tonight,” she said.
“They love you.”
She rolled her eyes adorably. “They just want to be models and think I can help them with their dreams.”
She seriously underestimated her appeal. There might’ve been a grain of truth to her words, but the women truly respected and adored her.
Though they were only a few blocks away, it took almost fifteen minutes before they pulled up to the restaurant. It went against his impulse, but he waited for the driver to open the door before he climbed out. Turning, he held out a hand for Brooklyn. She smiled, thanked the driver, and then threaded her arm around his, snuggling close. His body reacted predictably.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Someone was rushing toward them. He instinctively wrapped his body around her.
“Gage, it’s the paparazzi. You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not my bodyguard.”
Cameras. Not a knife-wielding madman. “Sorry,” he muttered. Forcing himself to relax, he smiled down at her as he heard the rapid-fire clicks.
“There are more than usual,” she murmured. “Someone famous must be dining here tonight.”
“Ms. Fontana, I’m with the website New York Chat. Who’s your date?”
She flashed her trademark smile at the curly-headed man. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Before the reporter could ask more questions, the restaurant door opened, and they were greeted as they entered. Brooklyn gave her name to the hostess, and they were led to a secluded booth. Several people looked like they might be famous, but he wasn’t up to date on Broadway actors. He did recognize a television star and a professional basketball player.
The evening passed quickly as they talked and ate dinner. The food was delicious, and the company outstanding. He truly enjoyed spending time with her. He loved her sense of humor, and he suddenly wanted to introduce her to Kai Costa. She’d love the adorable boy and his infectious personality. Only, she’d have no reason to visit the COBRA Securities compound. They weren’t really dating. She was an assignment, nothing more. The quicker he accepted that fact, the better for his peace of mind. And heart.
Chapter Eight
Gage was reluctant to end the romantic evening with Brooklyn, and it was romantic. Candlelight, soft music, delicious food, their bodies touching. But she had an early day tomorrow.
After he paid the check—winning the power struggle—he guided her to the exit with a hand on her lower back. He found he couldn’t stop touching her. Not good.
More cameras had gathered outside the restaurant, and now he knew why. They were a few steps behind a notorious shock jock. Thankfully, the cameras were focused on him and his wife. Gage was glad. They’d already been seen, so there was no need for more pictures, in his opinion.
“I overheard someone say that Maurice Massie said something outrageous on his talk show today, and people are riled up,” Brooklyn told him as the man flashed his middle fingers to the cameras. They were loving it, snapping frame after frame. His wife looked resigned to his antics.
A loud bang rang out, and it wasn’t from a car backfiring. Bullets were Gage’s business, and the sound was from a twenty-two-caliber weapon. “Take cover,” he ordered the crowd as he shielded Brooklyn with his body and propelled her forward. He rushed her to the waiting car as glass shattered behind them. People were yelling and running for their lives. He heard someone scream that they’d been hit.
He had a general idea of where the shots were coming from but didn’t have eyes on the shooter. If they got inside the car, they’d be sitting ducks, and he doubted the windshield was bulletproof. He urged Brooklyn behind the vehicle where she was safe. He wanted to help the others, but Brooklyn was his priority.
“Get down,” he ordered the driver, who had jumped out and was glancing around the area.
“But if you get inside, I’ll get us out of—”
It was all he got out before another pop sounded and his head whipped forward. He was dead before he hit the sidewalk.
Brooklyn screamed. He urged her head against his shoulder to shield her from the carnage. Sirens wailed, and police cars arrived from both directions with their lights flashing. It would be enough to scare the shooter away. Once he was sure it was safe, he stood with Brooklyn against him and surveyed the damage. Three were down, counting their driver. Another two were bleeding. Windows had been shot out of several businesses. He wasn’t sure about the count inside. People might’ve been hit with bullets or flying glass.
He wanted to whisk Brooklyn away, but they didn’t have a ride, and an officer approached them before he could. The cop glanced down at the dead dr
iver and motioned for someone to place a blanket over him to shield him from onlookers. “Are either of you injured?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“The shooter was in that building.” He pointed to the structure down the street. “Approximately on the sixth floor. He used a bolt-action rifle with a ten-round magazine.”
The cop narrowed his eyes. “Are you in law enforcement?”
“Private security and former military.”
The cop called two other officers over and instructed them to check out the building Gage indicated. As they talked, Gage watched the shock jock’s wife being tended to by paramedics before they lifted her to a gurney. He couldn’t tell if she was alive.
The cop motioned over his shoulder. “My guess is that Maurice ‘The Mouth’ Massie was the target. He upset people with his show today, and they’ve bombarded the station with angry phone calls and bomb threats.”
Just their luck. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he was relieved Brooklyn wasn’t the target. They spoke for a few more minutes, and he handed the officer his card. “If that’s all the questions, we need to get going.”
“COBRA Securities?” The cop nodded. “I’m impressed. Thanks for the information, Mr. Monahan.” With a nod, he departed.
“Let’s get you home,” Gage said to Brooklyn. She hadn’t spoken, and he was worried she was in shock.
She dug in her heels. “Wait—we can’t leave Rico.”
“The authorities will take care of him, honey. They’ll notify his family.”
Tears shimmered in her beautiful blue eyes. “He’s dead.”
“Yeah.” He led her away from the commotion. The cops had blocked off the street, so they continued down the sidewalk until he found a cab. He instructed the driver to take them to Fontana Towers.
As they neared the building, he hoped there were no cameras in sight. He got his wish as he led her inside and up the elevator to the penthouse, encountering no one.
Ginny was sitting at the bar with her computer and a glass of wine when they entered.
“How was—Brooklyn?” She jumped off the seat and rushed forward. Brooklyn threw her arms around her and sobbed. Gage felt powerless to help.
“What happened?” Ginny demanded.
“There was an incident at the restaurant. A sniper fired several shots as we were leaving.”
She looked horrified. “At Brooklyn?”
“The police think Maurice Massie was the target.”
“Foulmouthed bastard,” she spat.
“Rico’s dead,” Brooklyn cried against her shoulder.
“Oh, no,” Ginny said. “Let’s get you to bed where you can rest.”
Gage wanted to help, but Ginny was her mother. She’d take care of her. He met Ginny’s eyes. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will.”
“Wait—Gage.” Brooklyn reached for him. Even with splotchy cheeks, watery eyes, and a runny nose, she was stunning. “Thank you for protecting me. I didn’t know what was going on. I’d have been standing there clueless if not for you.”
“Anytime.” And he meant it.
“Yes, thank you,” Ginny echoed. He nodded and watched them take the elevator to the next level. He waited until they had time to go to their rooms before he followed.
Once he was inside his bedroom, he stripped off his suit. Ginny had told him to leave anything he needed to be dry-cleaned in the laundry room down the hall. Before he showered, he called his bosses to relay the events. There were so many paparazzi around, news of their involvement in the shooting was bound to get out. They asked if he wanted backup. He held off for now since the cops seemed certain Maurice Massie was the target.
#
Ginny sat with Brooklyn until she gathered her composure. Then she helped her undress, murmuring comforting words as she started the shower. With a hug, she left. Somehow, Brooklyn managed to wait until she closed the door before she began shaking uncontrollably. She couldn’t get Rico’s lifeless image from her mind. She’d never seen anything so horrible in her life.
What had been one of the best nights of her life turned into one of the worst. She’d been on a high after greeting the thirty girls competing to wear her designs. They were a raucous bunch, and their energy was contagious. But that wasn’t what had her giddy with joy. Gage was.
Their dinner had been fun and flirty, and she loved talking to him. She remembered reading somewhere that SEALs had to pass a series of aptitude tests on top of physical training, so he had to be intelligent. He was the complete package.
The evening had passed too quickly. They hadn’t even scratched the surface, but what she learned about him, she liked. A lot. They had many similar interests and argued good-naturedly about their opposing views, like favorite football teams and movie genres. She had a feeling she could talk to him for hours and never get bored, which she tended to do with men. She’d been accused more than once of not being present. Not that she was aloof, but when someone rambled on about their accomplishments and how important they were, she lost interest. She’d gone to dinner with an investment banker who constantly name-dropped and practically listed his portfolio line by line. They hadn’t connected on any level.
Stepping under the spray, she hoped the hot water would drive the chill away, but when it was soul-deep, it was impossible. She lathered and rinsed quickly before turning off the taps. After drying off, she found a silk short pajama set in Persian blue designed by a former supermodel and one of her friends.
She knew as soon as she closed her eyes she’d see Rico’s murder play on a continuous loop. She needed to feel safe, and the only place where she felt genuinely secure was in Gage’s arms. When he wrapped them around her, she knew he would protect her.
Sticking her head outside to make sure her mom wasn’t around to witness what was about to happen, she tiptoed across the hall and knocked lightly on Gage’s door before opening it a crack. The only illumination came from the city lights shining in the windows, but she could make out Gage sitting up in bed.
“Gage?”
“Yes?”
She stepped inside his room and bared her soul. “I felt safe in your arms. I have a big day tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can sleep. I don’t want to worry Mom. Do you think you can hold me?”
Chapter Nine
Gage willed his adrenalin to disperse so he could relax. He needed to be sharp in the morning, and if he didn’t get to sleep soon, he wouldn’t be running on all cylinders.
He’d been in too many gunfights to count and seen more dead bodies than one person should, but it never got easier. Gage had learned how to decompress and set his emotions aside, but knowing Brooklyn was hurting made it impossible this time. He wanted to ease her pain. Hell, he’d take it all himself if he could.
He’d checked the news about the shooting, and so far, Brooklyn’s name had been kept out of the media. Maurice Massie’s wife was in critical condition with a gunshot wound to the chest, but Maurice hadn’t been hit. Counting Rico, three people died, and seven were in the hospital with various injuries. The shooter was in the wind.
Maurice had taped a message, apologizing for his controversial remarks and asking anyone with information on the shooter to contact the police. He looked both humbled and devastated. He learned the hard way that words had consequences.
Gage sat upright, instantly alert when his door cracked open. He always slept with a gun close, but he could tell from the shape it was friend, not foe.
“Gage?”
“Yes?”
“I felt safe in your arms. I have a big day tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can sleep. I don’t want to worry Mom. Do you think you can hold me?”
Oh damn, yes. All the air rushed from his lungs. He’d wanted to go to her but didn’t want to overstep his bounds. He tossed back the sheet, and she hurried to him. He gathered her close and almost lost it when she spooned her body against his tru
stingly.
She might sleep in this position, but he’d have a hard time when all he wanted to do was lose himself in her. There was no better release for the adrenalin coursing through his veins. But he would never take advantage of her. She was shaken after the shooting. She’d witnessed an acquaintance being gunned down. The last thing she needed was him jumping her.
#
Brooklyn slept better than she had in weeks—heck, years. She couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t wake up at least once during the night. Granted, it was only five hours, but the warmth of Gage’s body seeped into her, and his scent surrounded her. Despite the events of the prior evening, she woke feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day.
“Morning.”
Gage’s deep rumble washed over her. Heat rushed into her cheeks when she remembered how she’d brazenly asked him to hold her. “Good morning.”
She realized his arm was around her waist, and she was clutching it like a lifeline. Scrambling out of his hold, she was a little disappointed when he let her go. “Thank you for last night. We have so many interviews to get through today. We’re starting at eight. We’re going to try to get in four an hour, but I’m sure some will run longer. I need to be there early to get everything set up, so I’m going to get ready.” She almost groaned from babbling like a madwoman. She fled before he could say anything.
He probably thought she was a fragile basket case, but she was usually the steady one. Ginny had taught her to be strong and self-sufficient, but last night, it’d been so easy to place all of her worries in his capable hands. Brooklyn never thought she’d be the type of woman who enjoyed having a man protect her. She’d never felt that way with any of the other men she’d dated—not that she and Gage were dating. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but it sure had been nice having him by her side.
After a quick shower, she dressed. It would be a long day interviewing the women. She had a few in mind who were frontrunners, but meeting them in person would be the test. The woman they ultimately selected as the winner needed to combine what she called the three P’s: personality, presence, and photogenicity. They didn’t need to be gorgeous or possess traits of accepted beauty standards. Classical pretty tended to be boring. Agencies and designers looked for unique faces that would attract customers to their brand. Therefore, the model needed to photograph well.
Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22) Page 8