Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22)

by Velvet Vaughn

  Brooklyn insisted on checking on the contestants. They found all ten huddled together. He was happy to note that, while shaken, none appeared to be injured.

  The authorities approached, and they answered endless questions. He was quizzed especially stringently on how he knew to grab Brooklyn in the nick of time before the blast. His answer of noticing the bomb beneath the stage held little weight until he told them where he worked. That seemed to relax the detective, and he shared what information they’d gathered in the early stages of the investigation.

  “It wasn’t a big bomb, nor very sophisticated. Right now, the theory we’re pursuing is that one of the radicals snuck in and planted the device. Another admitted overhearing someone say they had something big planned for the evening.”

  Gage wasn’t surprised since there was a careless lack of security. Knowing the history of the company that sponsored the event, a metal detector and bag searches should’ve been a top priority, though he knew the person could’ve snuck in with the catering or cleaning crews. He hoped cameras caught the perp in action. Sadly, that didn’t prove to be the case.

  Chapter Twelve

  Though the contestants and most of the crew wouldn’t arrive until Saturday, Brooklyn and Gage left early Friday morning for Fontana Island. A day spent at the tropical locale would be a pleasant respite from the last few hectic weeks, not to mention the shooting outside the restaurant, Jessie’s death, and the bomb scare last night. Thank goodness no one had been seriously injured. Brooklyn wouldn’t have been so lucky if not for Gage and his eagle eyes.

  It was scary how much she was coming to depend on him in less than a week, not just because he was strong and capable. She genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. He was knowledgeable on a variety of subjects, and she loved his sense of humor. She was seriously afraid she was falling for him.

  They boarded the Hurst Entertainment jet and stowed their luggage. Destiny Ritchie, the flight attendant, brought them drinks and snacks as Brooklyn asked about her family. Her sister was about to graduate high school, and her brother was learning to drive.

  Brooklyn planned on working during the flight but decided they needed a break. She forced Gage to watch a romantic comedy instead. He groaned and grumbled, but it turned out to be a good, funny movie that had them laughing throughout the show. Her plan backfired during the ending scene when the couple realized their love for each other. It was all she could do to keep from ending the movie early. How would she explain her reaction? That she pictured her and Gage in the same scenario?

  Finally, blessedly, the credits began to roll. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” she told him.

  “It’s an hour and twenty-two minutes of my life I can’t get back.”

  She laughed and bumped against his arm. “You liked it. Admit it.”

  “It wasn’t horrible,” he reluctantly capitulated.

  The rest of the flight passed quickly as they chatted easily. Destiny gathered their glasses once the pilot announced their descent into Miami. A car was waiting when they stepped off the plane.

  “How often do you get to the island?” Gage asked.

  “Not nearly as much as I’d like. Maybe twice a year.”

  The car dropped them off at the marina. Gage carried most of the luggage, ignoring her attempts to help.

  “Ms. Fontana?”

  Gage urged Brooklyn behind him as a woman rushed forward with a bulky black camera. She knew he was protecting her, but the woman looked harmless.

  “My name is Dominique Fisk. I’m a grad student, and I’m producing a documentary on the fifth anniversary of David Pacella’s death.”

  Brooklyn’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about David in years. Pronounced Dah-veed, he’d been a talented up-and-coming designer she’d discovered. She helped launch his career and brand—until it all came crashing down.

  “Hi, Dominique. How can I help you?”

  “You were known as David’s muse. You walked the runway for his first fashion show and modeled his designs. I’d love to sit down with you to get your thoughts on his meteoric rise and fall.”

  Ever since his overdose, she had thought little about him except to lament a promising career cut short by addiction. He’d been such a bright star, but his compulsions cost him everything, including his life. “I’d be willing to talk to you, but I don’t have time right now, and my schedule is packed for the next few weeks.”

  “Oh, I realize that,” Dominique acknowledged. “You have the show and your designer line. I was just excited when I heard you were coming here. I’ve sent email requests, but you never replied. I hoped to appeal to you in person. Having your input will add validity to my project and hopefully help me get a good grade.” She smiled and winked.

  “I apologize for not responding to you. I didn’t get the messages.” Stella must’ve filtered the requests. She oversaw the business website and email, handling most of the issues herself. Brooklyn trusted her, so there must’ve been a reason she didn’t think the project had merit. She made a note to ask her when she arrived tomorrow.

  “I thought as much. That’s why I’m basically stalking you at the marina.”

  “How did you know what time she would be here?” Gage asked. She knew him well enough now to hear the accusation in his tone.

  A blush colored Dominique’s cheeks. “I didn’t. I have a friend who works for the network. She told me that most of the crew would arrive in the next few days. I planned on spending the entire weekend here, hoping to catch you. Lucky for me, you were early.”

  Gage made a sound she interpreted to mean he didn’t buy her explanation, but then he was the suspicious type. Brooklyn believed her. She looked sincere.

  “To be honest, my research isn’t going well, and I was getting desperate. I can’t track down any of his family, and others in the industry are apathetic at best. I get the feeling he wasn’t well-liked among his contemporaries.”

  That was because he’d become disgustingly arrogant once he tasted success. She hadn’t seen that side of him until it was too late. “He had a sister, I know. Debbie, I think is her name.” His parents were both dead, from what she remembered. She didn’t know about aunts, uncles, or cousins. Mostly, his cohorts were fellow drug abusers and dealers. That’s why she dumped him. She hated to do it, especially since she liked his designs, but she hoped the tough love would scare him straight. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. He spiraled, his business tanked, and he overdosed soon after.

  “I’m not giving up on finding Debbie or any other family members. I’m very persistent.”

  Brooklyn had the feeling she could be a bulldozer. Maybe that’s why Stella ignored her requests. “As I said, I’m tied up for a few weeks.”

  “Oh, that’s totally fine,” Dominique insisted. “Just having you commit to the project is all I need. Hopefully, by the time we talk, I’ll have insight from his family. You don’t happen to have any numbers, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not. Call my assistant, and we’ll set a date to talk in a few weeks.” She gave Dominique Stella’s direct contact information. She would help with the project when she had time. She’d loved David and his designs until he’d imploded. In fact, he was a factor in her decision to launch her signature line. She’d adored his fresh, fun styles and hoped to incorporate some of his touches in her gowns as a nod to his once-bright light.

  “Oh, my gosh, Ms. Fontana, that would mean the world to me. Thank you. Oh, I should tell you now that I can’t pay you.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve been a part of documentaries before.”

  Dominique left with Brooklyn’s business card and a wide smile. Maybe nothing would come of it. Someone tried to do a movie on David’s life two years ago, but it never got off the ground. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the producer had died, coincidentally, in an overdose.

  David had been one of her first projects. He’d boldly approached her at a show and handed her one of his dresses. It was fabulous, from the det
ails to the stitching to the materials. After scrutinizing his business proposal to make sure he was legit, she agreed to wear it for a shoot. It led to her being the face of David Pacella Designs.

  She’d never regret the months she spent with his company. Each time she visited him, she’d been blown away by his creations. She’d modeled for his runway debut and appeared in magazine ads. His brand skyrocketed.

  Unfortunately, as his fame rose, so did his addiction. He became increasingly more erratic and uncertain. He couldn’t concentrate long enough to hold a conversation. She gave him an ultimatum: either quit the drugs, or she’d quit him. He chose the drugs, so she made good on her promise and walked away. He was dead three months later.

  Every once in a while, she’d remember him and his easygoing, friendly smile and boyish charm. It never ceased to amaze her that he could create such dynamic dresses when he seemed to be in a perpetually drug-induced stupor. His tragic life deserved to be told. Brooklyn wanted to honor David by telling the world about the side of him that was a genius designer. She had a feeling anything else would be unflattering to his memory.

  #

  Gage followed Brooklyn to a dock where a man dressed in a uniform waited for them. Brooklyn told him that the trip across the water would take approximately ten minutes.

  The captain introduced himself and shook their hands. Gage did not like the lecherous look in his eyes when he focused on Brooklyn. He held on to her hand too long as he let his gaze travel down her body. Though she wasn’t wearing anything revealing, the man acted as if she was. Gage swung an arm over her shoulders and propelled her forward toward the boat. So it was a purely possessive move. Sue him.

  Gage helped her and then handed the luggage over before climbing inside. He kept the waterproof case with his laptop and looped the strap over his head to secure it against his side. He’d put his phone and weapon inside earlier.

  The captain unhooked the rope from the cleat and then hopped aboard in a move that suggested he’d done the same thing many times over the years.

  “Have a seat. We’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  There was a chair for the driver and one beside him. Padded benches lined both sides. Brooklyn sat on one, and he took the one across from her.

  The captain started the engine and slowly eased from the dock. Once they were past the no-wake zone, he increased the speed. Brooklyn tipped her head back, letting the wind whip her ponytail. He suddenly wished he had a camera to capture the look of happiness on her face. She’d been through so much the last few weeks and seeing her relax, even for a few minutes, made him want to take away all of her worries.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement. He rotated to see a boat racing alongside them, recognizing it as a go-fast narco boat that drug runners used. The vessels were built to increase speed and avoid detection as much as possible. The front hull was covered with fiberglass, where the drugs and fuel would be stored. The cockpit was open. This one had two outboard motors propelling it through the water.

  A gun barrel appeared, and he had a split second to lunge for Brooklyn, scoop her up, and launch them both overboard before the shooting started.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brooklyn was enjoying the sunshine and the wind whipping through her hair as the boat bounced along the water. The few minutes of downtime were appreciated after weeks of non-stop action. There was no one she’d rather share it with than Gage.

  She turned her head to smile at him when she noticed a boat rapidly approaching. Though it was a speedboat, it didn’t look like any she’d seen before. It was sleek, with the entire front end enclosed.

  Before she could process what was happening, Gage dived for her and tossed her overboard. Surprise had her gasping, so half the ocean flooded into her mouth when she hit the water. Panic set in, and she clawed at the arm around her waist, dragging her further beneath the surface. She was going to die. The man she thought would protect her was going to be her executioner.

  Just when she was positive her lungs would explode, Gage propelled her to the surface. She couldn’t enjoy the blast of air since she couldn’t breathe. He held her over his arm and gently patted her back until she expelled the liquid.

  When her breath returned, she gasped, “What was—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, the vessel they’d been in a few seconds ago exploded into a giant orange fireball. If Gage hadn’t been supporting her, she’d have sunk. She hadn’t realized it, but he’d maneuvered them far enough away so that they weren’t hit with any flying shrapnel.

  The other boat turned around and sped away.

  That was two explosions in less than twenty-four hours.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What just happened?” Flames smoldered on what was left of the boat they’d been on seconds ago. She clutched Gage’s arm. “The captain?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. My only focus was getting you to safety.”

  And he had. He’d saved her life. Again.

  She hadn’t been treading water, so he’d been doing the work of two people. It was then that she realized they were stranded in the middle of the Atlantic. Terror overwhelmed her again, and she started struggling frantically.

  “Relax, Brooklyn. I’ve got you,” Gage crooned in a soothing voice. How could he be so calm? They were in serious trouble.

  “What are we going to do?” She couldn’t keep the alarm from her voice.

  “There’s a Coast Guard Station in Miami Beach. They’ll be here soon.”

  She looked around but didn’t see anyone coming to their rescue. “We’re in the middle of the freaking ocean!” Panic had her screaming the words.

  “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you. I can tread water for hours—and I have.”

  She forgot he’d been a SEAL. She’d read a story once that said they were as comfortable in the water as on land. That made her feel marginally better. Still, unsavory creatures lived beneath the surface—things like stingrays and octopuses and sharks. “How do you know the Coast Guard will be here?”

  “There’s a panic button on my watch. I pushed it as soon as we hit the water. My office will notify them—there they are now.”

  She swiveled her head to see a boat headed in their direction. Relief had her sagging against him as Gage waved an arm in the air. The cutter eased close, and someone tossed a lifebuoy. Gage grabbed it, and they were reeled in. Two men reached down to lift her from the water, with Gage assisting. As soon as her feet were on the deck, someone placed a blanket over her shoulders.

  Brooklyn turned to help Gage, but he was already climbing in on his own. She caught him wincing and noticed the blood on his arm. She tried to get to him, but a man ushered him inside the pilothouse.

  “Brooklyn?”

  “I’m here.” She hurried after him. He insisted he was okay, but they made him sit down while they removed the laptop case from around his shoulder and then his shirt.

  She inhaled. Brooklyn knew he had an incredible body, but seeing it up close and personal was staggering. His muscles were abundant and defined. She couldn’t focus on his six-pack when there was a deep grove on his upper arm.

  “I’m okay. Check her out first. She swallowed a ton of water.”

  A woman approached her, but Brooklyn waved her away. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Gage told them what happened as they patched up his arm. He asked someone to dig the phone from the waterproof case, and he called his office to let them know they’d been rescued.

  She hadn’t realized it, but two divers had been checking out the destroyed boat. She gasped when she realized they’d recovered the captain’s body. She turned away as they loaded him onto the deck and covered him with a blanket.

  At Gage’s request, the Coast Guard delivered them to the pier at Fontana Island. She recognized the two men waiting on them from the security company provided by the network.

  Now that the immediate danger was over, anxiety attacked her again. She’
d lost her phone and all her identification in the explosion. All the important numbers were programmed in her cell. Thank goodness she’d backed it up before they left her office. Still, she’d have to purchase a new one, not to mention replacing her ID and clothes.

  One of the men held out a hand to help her to the dock. Gage hopped out behind her. They watched as the Coast Guard boat backed away, turned, and headed to Miami.

  Gage introduced himself and told the men what happened.

  “We saw the explosion,” Travis Cross, the head of the security team, said. “Do you think you were targeted?”

  “I don’t know,” Gage admitted. “It was a go-fast boat, so maybe it was a case of mistaken identity.”

  She hoped that was the explanation and someone wasn’t shooting at them for real. “What’s a go-fast boat?”

  “Used by drug runners,” he elucidated. “They can reach high speeds to evade capture.”

  Before word got out that she’d been in an accident, she asked to borrow Gage’s phone to call her mom. She’d be beside herself with worry if she saw it on the news. Brooklyn related the situation, making sure Ginny knew they were both okay.

  “We have a golf cart waiting for you as requested, Ms. Fontana,” the guard, who introduced himself as Ron Hemmings, said. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

  “Do you happen to have a wetsuit, tank, and regulator available?”

  “Huh?”

  That went right over his head. “Our bags were on the boat when it exploded.”

  “So, you need us to find you a wetsuit?”

  “No, I was joking.”

  “Oh.”

  So much for her sense of humor. It did bring her satisfaction when Gage chuckled. He got her.