by Elle James
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
“Carl is prior navy. He was a chef on board the USS La Salle.” Charlie smiled. “My husband knew the ship’s captain. When Carl left active duty, the captain asked him if he had a place for him in one of our businesses.” Charlie’s lips quirked. “John saw his potential, sent him to culinary school and he went to work for us as our personal chef.”
“I love it almost as much as I loved cooking for the navy,” Carl called out.
Charlie snorted. “I know I’ll lose him someday to some fancy restaurant, but I’m enjoying some really good meals in the meantime.” She sighed heavily. “So, tell me what happened today.”
Emily recounted Sachi’s visit, the attack in the parking garage and their visit with Jay Phillips. “I’m sad to report, we’re no closer to learning who my attacker is.”
“But we do know more than we started out with,” Mustang added. “Whoever is after Emily is also after Phillips. Which must have something to do with what was discussed at the meeting with the ambassador.”
“And since Sachi spilled the beans about why her father contracted the private investigator in the first place,” Emily said, “I can speak freely about the meeting with the PI and the ambassador without violating my nondisclosure agreement.”
“Good.” Charlie clapped her hands together. “At least there’s that. We haven’t had much luck here. Cole McCastlain and Jonah Spradlin, my computer guy, have been online all morning, trying to find the dirt on the Russians occupying the embassy. So far, other than being accused of employing an undocumented maid at one of the Russian’s town homes, we haven’t uncovered anything of significance that would warrant someone wanting you and Mr. Phillips dead.”
Emily laid her napkin on the table. “I don’t know what else I can do, other than go back to the embassy and ask for a meeting with the ambassador himself.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure what good that will do, other than to let him know one of two things. Either I’m on to his attempts on my life or he’s got a problem with someone on his staff who feels it necessary to keep his daughter’s love affair quiet from the rest of the world.”
Mustang shook his head. “I still find it hard to believe a daughter’s indiscretions would create enough of a stir to warrant an attack on an interpreter and a PI.”
Emily frowned. “Unless it goes back to the fact I saw Tyler Blunt at the embassy the day he disappeared. Do you think that’s the crux of the matter? Have the Russians done something nefarious with Tyler?”
“I can have some of Declan’s Defenders follow the ambassador,” Charlie offered.
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Mustang said.
“While you’re at it, have Viktor Sokolov, the ambassador’s assistant, followed,” Emily said. “He was at the meeting, as well, along with a couple of their embassy guards. I’m sorry, I didn’t get their names.”
Charlie tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. “I doubt they would be pulling the strings on your attackers.”
Mustang frowned. “If anything, they might be the ones attacking you.”
“All I know is I need a shower.” She yawned, covering her mouth. “I might call it a night early.”
“I’m sure you’re exhausted,” Charlie said.
Emily gave the older woman a crooked smile. “At least I was able to collect some of my own belongings.” She glanced around, looking for the bag she’d packed. “I must have left my things in the car.”
Charlie held up a hand. “I had Arnold take your bag to your room. You go on up. I’ll have Carl make you a cup of tea and send it up.”
“That’s not necessary,” Emily said. “I can come down and get it myself.”
“Please. I insist.” Charlie pressed her lips together. “I like having the company. I just wish the circumstances weren’t so dire.”
Emily pushed back from the table and stood.
Mustang rose with her and cupped her elbow.
“You don’t have to go with me,” Emily said. “I can find my way.”
With a shake of his head, Mustang didn’t slow as he ushered her from the dining room. “I told you, I’m sticking with you. I don’t want you out of my sight for more than a couple of seconds.”
Emily opened her mouth to argue but ended up saying, “Thank you.” Nothing she could say or do would put Mustang at ease. Until her attacker was stopped, she’d have the former marine as her shadow. After all that had happened, she was glad he was there.
As Charlie had indicated, Emily’s bag had been brought to her room and deposited on the bed. Thankful for her own clothes, she dug into the garments and selected clean underwear and hesitated over what to sleep in.
She ran her hand over her usual nightgown, though she wondered what Mustang would think of her in it. The gown was a sexy, blush pink babydoll that barely covered her bottom, with matching pink panties. Why she’d tossed it into the bag, she didn’t know. Mustang would be sleeping in her bedroom until further notice. The gown was too revealing to wear in the presence of the marine. He might think she was coming on to him.
Her pulse quickened and warmth pooled low in her belly at the thought of standing in front of Mustang in a nightie that didn’t conceal much beneath the shear fabric. She shot a glance in his direction.
Mustang had closed and secured the bedroom door before wandering through the room and bathroom. He ended up in front of the French doors leading out onto the balcony. Having pulled the curtain aside, he stared out at the night. The man obviously wasn’t interested in seeing her in a nightgown. She’d practically had to beg him to sleep with her the night before, to chase away the lingering shadows of her nightmare. The man was in her room out of necessity not desire.
Emily grabbed a pair of dark leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt and headed for the shower, closing the bathroom door behind her. She’d stripped out of her clothes and turned on the shower before she realized she’d left her bag of toiletries on the bed.
Wrapping one of the huge, plush towels around her, Emily opened the door and poked her head out.
Mustang stood directly in front of her, only inches away, with one fist raised to knock, the other hand holding her toiletries bag. “Forget this?”
Her eyes widened and heat rushed up her neck into her cheeks. Even more heat raced south to the juncture of her naked thighs beneath the towel. “Uh, yes.” When she reached for the bag, her towel slipped. She held it up with one hand and tried again to take the bag.
The corners of Mustang’s lips quirked as he handed over the item.
When his fingers touched hers, Emily felt a jolt of something like electricity shoot up her arm and across her chest, making her nipples tighten and her breath catch in her lungs. Her eyes widened as she held the bag he hadn’t released yet.
For a long moment she stared into his eyes.
And he stared back.
Finally he let go and backed away, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just going to wait in the adjoining room, but I’ll leave the door open.” Then he turned and strode into the other room. He paused at the connecting door and glanced back over his shoulder.
Emily stood for a moment longer, unable to draw in a breath. Wow. What had just happened?
He ducked around the corner and the moment was gone.
Clutching the bag to her chest, Emily slipped back into the bathroom and closed the door. Then she turned and leaned against it and tried to remember how to breathe. The man turned her inside out and made her heart flutter. No man had ever done that. Why Mustang? And, for heaven’s sake, why now?
* * *
MUSTANG PACED THE floor of his bedroom, passing the open connecting door several times before he slowed to a stop and stood staring across Emily’s room to the closed bathroom door.
When she’d poked her head out, wearing nothing but a towel, all thoughts of keeping her at
arm’s length flew out the window. He’d wanted to take her into his arms and hold her naked body against his. Hell, he wanted to do more than that. His gaze drifted to the bed and he groaned. How the heck was he going to keep this mission from becoming too personal? With all that was going on, Emily didn’t need a lusty former marine panting after her.
He closed his eyes and willed his body to calm down. But the image that resonated in his mind was one of her creamy shoulders above the terry-cloth towel and her long, sexy legs that would wrap so easily around his waist.
Mustang opened his eyes and forced himself to look at anything but the bed and the bathroom door. He turned into his room and stared at the go-bag he’d carried on more missions than he cared to remember. Perhaps it was time to pack it again and let one of the other team members take on the responsibility of keeping Emily safe and alive.
As soon as the thought entered his head, he pushed it back. No. As much as he trusted his team to support him and to do a good job at any tasking, Mustang couldn’t walk away. Emily was his.
He ran a hand through his hair.
Correction... Emily wasn’t his. Keeping her alive was his mission. He would not fail. That meant he would not let her out of his sight. He couldn’t let someone else provide her protection. He’d just have to manage his baser instincts and do his best not to touch her any more than he had to.
Just as he was coming to that conclusion, the bathroom door opened and Emily stepped out, wearing leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. All the drool-worthy parts of her body were covered and her hair was wet and combed straight back. The sloppy outfit and wet hair didn’t make her any less sexy. If anything, the tips of her nipples making little tents against her shirt were more of a tease than exposed flesh.
Another groan rose up his throat and would have escaped if Emily’s cell phone hadn’t buzzed at that exact moment.
Mustang swallowed hard and hurried forward.
Emily lifted the phone from the bed and frowned down at the display.
Mustang leaned over her shoulder and read the text message.
I might have something. Meet me at Finnegan’s Tavern in Arlington in thirty minutes. JP.
“I can be dressed in one minute. Do we have time to make it to Finnegan’s in thirty minutes?” Emily grabbed a bra from her suitcase and tucked it beneath her T-shirt, reaching to clasp it in the back. Then she pulled her arms out of the sleeves and into the torso of the shirt. After a few moments of fumbling beneath the fabric, she pushed her arms back through the sleeves and gave him a twisted grin. “You could have turned your back.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve always been intrigued at how dexterous a woman can be when dressing.”
Emily grabbed a pair of shoes and slipped her feet into them. “I’m ready.”
“I’m not sure you should go,” Mustang said. “I need to run this by Declan and the team.”
“He texted me. He’ll be expecting me.” Her lips firmed. “I’m going.”
“What if it wasn’t him who texted? What if it’s a setup?”
She grabbed her phone as he stepped closer, calling Phillips.
“Voice mail,” she said and hit End.
“See? Might not have been him.”
“Or he might be on the road.” She stared at him. “I’m going. Like it or not, I’m going.”
“Okay. But we do it my way. And we need backup.” He led the way down the stairs and into the living area where he found Declan, Grace, Charlie and Charlie’s computer guy, Jonah Spradlin. “We just got word from Phillips. He wants to meet in twenty-five minutes. Finnegan’s in Arlington. He thinks he has something.”
Declan leaned over and kissed Grace. “Snow and I are with you. Mack and Gus are on their way home. We can divert them to the location.”
“He texted me,” Emily reminded them. “He’ll be expecting me, and Mustang. But he might spook if the whole gang of us shows up.”
Declan nodded. “Understood. We won’t all enter at the same time. In fact, I can position a couple guys outside the tavern to be on the lookout for trouble.”
Mustang glanced down at the clock on his cell phone. “We’d better get moving.” Whatever Phillips had could be the break they were looking for. They couldn’t blow it by being late.
The garage doors were up and the sedan Mustang and Emily had arrived in was pulling out as Mustang, Emily, Declan and Snow emerged from the back door of the big house.
Arnold climbed out, left the driver’s door open and then ran around to the other side and opened the door for Emily.
Emily and Mustang slid in and buckled their seat belts.
“I’ll have the gate open as you reach it,” Arnold promised.
“Thanks,” Mustang called out as he shifted into Drive and sped away from the garage.
Declan and Snow climbed into Declan’s truck and pulled in behind them.
By the time they reached the gate it was three-quarters of the way open, just enough for him to squeeze the sedan through. Emily had the address of the tavern keyed into the map on her phone. They were on the road to their rendezvous with little time to spare.
With Declan’s headlights in the rearview mirror, Mustang felt marginally better about the meeting. He couldn’t keep watch in all directions, and the attackers had showed some ability to create a distraction. Having the rest of the team there would make it easier to keep Emily safe.
Pushing the speed limits, Mustang wove through the city, from main roads to those with less traffic, arriving with two minutes to spare.
When Emily reached for the door handle, Mustang shot out a hand to capture her arm. “I’m still not comfortable with you going in. It smells like a setup to me.”
Emily let go of the handle as if it burned her hand. “But why would Jay go along with a setup?”
“He might not be in control of his cell phone.” He pulled his own phone out of his pocket and punched the key for Declan.
“I’m going in first,” Declan answered without preamble.
Mustang chuckled. “You read my mind. We’ll wait for your signal.”
Declan had parked his truck out of sight of the tavern’s front door and approached the building, using the sidewalk, like any other customer intent on a meal or a pint.
Once Declan entered, Mustang gave him a minute or two to get settled and then he gave Emily’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Stay low until I get out and come around.”
Emily did as he told her, waiting for him to open her door and usher her out of the vehicle. Once again, using his body as a shield, he guided her into the tavern, certain Declan would have made sure it was relatively safe. If it hadn’t been, he’d have found a way to notify Mustang before he dared enter with Emily.
Once inside, Mustang scanned the interior. At that moment he wished he had his military rifle and bulletproof body armor on both him and Emily. He didn’t know what to expect, but his gut was telling him to count on trouble. For a moment he considered turning around and marching Emily out, high-tailing it back to the Halverson estate.
Then he spotted Declan who gave him an almost imperceptive chin lift. A further study of the interior of the tavern revealed a lack of Jay Phillips.
Emily craned her neck, frowning. “I don’t see him.”
“He said he’d meet us here in a half hour. We’re right on time, he might have gotten tied up in traffic,” Mustang reasoned. “Give him a few minutes.”
Emily nodded. “You’re right. I’m just nervous. I really hope he’s come up with something that would give us a clue as to who is targeting us.”
Mustang guided her to a table in a corner and took the seat that placed him with his back against the wall. It also gave him a view of the front entrance and the rear exit.
Rather than sitting across the table from Mustang, Emily chose to sit in the seat beside him, giving her a good view of t
he entrance.
The waitress came and handed them two dinner menus and a drinks menu. “Can I get you a drink to start with?”
“I’ll have coffee,” Mustang said, anxious for the woman to move and quit blocking his view of the doors.
“Hot tea for me,” Emily said softly.
“I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your dinner order.”
Mustang didn’t bother to tell the waitress they weren’t interested in eating. He just wanted her to move on.
Emily lifted her napkin and laid it across her lap, her fingers pulling at the hem, her gaze worried and turned to the entrance.
With a chuckle, Mustang covered her hand with his. “You’d be a terrible secret agent,” he said.
She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re wearing your emotions on your face. Anyone looking at you would know you’re waiting for someone to enter. Someone you’re nervous about meeting or seeing.”
Her frown deepened. “How am I wearing my emotions on my face?”
Mustang reached out and brushed his thumb across her brow. “You’re frowning fiercely. Why don’t you pretend we are here on a date? Not the kind of date where you’re about to dump me.”
Emily lifted a hand halfway to her face and then let it drop to her lap. “You’re right. I’m worried, and I’m sure it shows.” She pasted a smile on her face. “There, is that better?”
He winced and gave her a crooked smile. “A little, but a bit scary.” He winked and gave her a natural smile. What wasn’t to smile about? She was a beautiful woman and they were alone at the table together.
She sighed. “You make it look so natural and easy.”
“I think of something besides why we’re here. A more pleasant reason to be sitting here with you. Like if we were on a real date.” He reached out and took her hand in his and wove her fingers through his. Though he gazed into her eyes, he kept a close watch in his peripheral vision on the doors.
Emily’s fingers curled around his. “I wish we were here for that reason. Not because we need information on my attacker. I’d order a glass of wine and stare across the table into your eyes, not frantically watch the door for another man to enter.”