“Stupido!” Rosie muttered as she picked up a ten-pound barbell.
“What was that, Rosie?” Andy Walters asked as he increased the incline on the treadmill. Considering he’d probably run about six miles, he’d barely worked up a sweat. A tad less than six feet, he wasn’t the typical body-builder people expected from a bodyguard. Today’s shirt had I’m the man your mother warned you about silk-screened across the chest, which most people meeting him for the first time would believe. Especially once they got a look at the tattoos completely covering his left arm and shoulder that made most people think he was a member of Hell’s Angels instead of one of the highest level operatives in Hauberk. But if they talked to him they’d discover he was a soft-spoken man who didn’t swear, didn’t smoke or drink and had manners that would stand him in good stead at Buckingham Palace.
“Just talking to myself, Andy.”
Five minutes later she was muttering again.
It wasn’t as if Sam Watson even knew she was alive. All right, maybe he knew she existed, but she doubted he realized she was female. He’s your boss. You know you shouldn’t get involved with people you work with-it’s trouble with a capital T. Yet she couldn’t stop watching her boss. Couldn’t stop fantasizing about him. Especially after the night he’d escorted her to one of Washington’s finest restaurants. Pity he’d only taken her to dinner because she’d made the winning bid at the bachelor auction. It’s not like it was a real date or anything. But a girl could pretend.
At least when he pulled the car in front of her apartment, she hadn’t blurted out how sexy she found him and revealed how horny she was by inviting him to come up to her apartment. Instead she’d fled. Like a coward.
Not that he would have come up to her apartment if she’d asked. All the photos she’d seen of him showed him beside tall leggy blondes with names like Cynthia or Allison or Lee-Anne-not short Puerto Ricans named Rosalinda who had hair resembling Lisa Simpson’s if she didn’t wrestle it into a bun every morning. Look at that night-she’d dressed up in her sexiest little black dress and he’d barely given her a second glance, if he even bothered with a first one. No, she was his employee, nothing more.
And then this morning-she’d proven herself a total airhead. She’d been hitting the target until he walked into the firing range, and then she started hitting snow. It’s not that he’d said anything or made a noise, it was his cologne, that wonderful dark scent of cedar and amber he wore. She would have known he was there if she’d been blindfolded. It wasn’t right that a man could smell so good.
Instead of concentrating on her target, she’d imagined commanding him to strip off his clothes. Slowly. First she’d have him shrug off his shirt to reveal that rock hard stomach and chest that she’d often admired in Hauberk’s private gym. Have him turn around, maybe even bend over so she could admire his ass. Ay bendito, that man had the best ass of any man she’d ever seen.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she imagined him kneeling in front of her, ready to do her bidding, his cock pendulous between his legs. No! Bobbing high against his abdomen. If it matched the rest of him, he was probably as wide as her wrist. The ache in her pussy increased exponentially, her panties now drenched at the thought of him suckling her nipples, his full lips feathering down her belly until his tongue lapped at her labia, taunted her pulsing clit. He’d probably be an expert in making a woman come with his tongue. And then she’d lay back and feel those muscular thighs between hers as he pounded her into the mattress. And all the while he’d murmur to her softly in French, or growl at her in German. She’d heard he spoke six languages, four fluently. Body parts always sounded so much sexier in a different language.
Then he’d strolled over to her and wrapped his hand around hers as he corrected her grip. His touch, combined with the strength of his rigid muscles of his thighs pressed against her body, had scattered her wits.
To make matters worse, less than an hour ago, he’d once again proven his disinterest, or worse. She’d stepped on the treadmill-of course the only one free had to be the one right beside his. Less than two minutes later, even though the meter on his treadmill showed he’d only run three miles instead of his usual five, he’d slung a towel around his neck and walked away.
No, Sam Watson didn’t just walk, he prowled like a lion. And not just any lion, Samuel T. Watson was Mustafa himself, the king of the pride, right down to the deep voice. It was a good thing he’d left when he did, because when she’d attempted to peel off the sweatshirt she was wearing over her tee, the treadmill rocketed her into the wall behind her like a sling shot flinging a pea. She’d tried to pretend she’d intended to step off, but from the grin Andy had given her, she was sure everyone in the office would now think her the clumsiest operative of the group.
At least Sam hadn’t witnessed her humiliation.
Or Kris, the newest trainee she’d been assigned. If he’d witnessed her total spazzdom, she’d never hear the end of it.
“Speak of the devil,” she muttered when Kris chose that moment to walk in. His gaze lingered on her cleavage briefly, then trailed down to her legs, his grin slowly widening. “Put your eyeballs back in their sockets, Campbell.”
He grinned, a wide crooked smile. “It’s the drool that’s the problem. I swear you need to hand out bibs when you’re working out, Rosie.” As usual he wore a pair of faded tan shorts, and the ubiquitous blue T-shirt with its gold Hauberk crest. “You going to need a sparring partner later?”
She glanced over at Andy as she chugged back a quarter of the water in her bottle. He was in the middle of a good sprint-he wouldn’t be ready for a while yet. Pity, she wanted to figure out that leg sweep he’d used on her last time they’d paired up. “Yes, I just want to get in a couple more reps.”
By the time Kris had finished his warm ups, her foot was braced against the wall over her head as she stretched her hamstrings.
“Goddamn, woman. It isn’t right that a body is so flexible.”
“It isn’t right that a woman should be expected to pass a basketball through an opening the size of her nostril either, but we can.” She lowered her leg and flexed a few more times. “You ready?”
Kris grinned. “I’m ready to kick your butt. You ready to kiss the mats?”
As they moved to the sparring area, Rosie saw several of her co-workers exchanging money. If they bet on Kris, she vowed they were going to regret it.
Although she was ten inches shorter and a good eighty pounds lighter than Kris, she managed to flip him onto his back fairly quickly.
“Aw hell,” he muttered as he rolled to his feet. “I wasn’t warmed up properly.”
She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “World’s smallest violin, you big baby.”
“That’s cold. And strangely arousing. Let’s see you do that move again.”
As Kris rolled to a stand, Andy winked at Rosie and called, “Hey, cougar bait, I hear you had another date with that old lady who bought you at the auction.”
Kris shrugged and turned away. “Hey, Bonnie may be forty, but she’s still hot. I figure it’s a win-win situation.”
“Just make sure when she asks to check out your gun, that you don’t rack a bullet in the chamber prematurely.”
Turning bright red, Kris grimaced and muttered to Rosie. “Wow, he’s so subtle.”
He rushed her as he had before but when she moved to intercept him again, he changed directions and she found herself flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.
“Shit!” That was the same move Andy had used on her. How had he done that? She’d have to ask him. After she paid him back, of course.
A grin split Kris’s face when he loomed over her. “Sorry, Rosie, but if you want to dish it out, you gotta be able to take it too. Isn’t that what you told me my first day?”
She took the hand he held out to help her up. Once on her feet but before he released her, she forced his thumb toward his wrist and wrenched his arm behind him in a classic takedown maneuver. In an effort to lessen the pain, he twisted as she’d intended and fell to his knees. She placed her knee in his back and forced him flat onto the mat where she’d been moments before.
“Cheater!” he gasped.
“Weren’t you just talking about taking what you dish out?”
“Ah, Kris with his face in the mats, and Rosalinda controlling him. All is right with the world I see,” a voice said from the doorway to the men’s locker room.
Rosie released her grip on Kris’s arm and straightened. She grinned when she saw Chad watching them. “It was like taking candy from a baby. As always.”
Kris stood so fast she’d sworn someone had called attention on deck. “Heya, boss! What’s up?”
“You two hit the showers and then come to Sam’s office. Andy, you too. We’ve got some business to discuss.”
Rosie raced through her shower, muttering curses under her breath as she struggled to tame her wayward hair, hurriedly drying it with her diffuser and using the silicon hair tamer she wished she’d bought stock in. Finally she wrestled it into the bun she found easiest to deal with.
“At least I won’t look like a dandelion,” she grumbled. She stepped into the hall at the same time Andy exited the men’s change room.
He gestured back at the men’s change room with his head. “Skippy’s still making himself look beautiful. You want to wait for him or head over to the Sanctum?”
“He can meet us.”
They’d made it as far as the accounting area when Kris jogged up behind. “Hey, you guys got any idea what this is about? Must be special though if Sam’s in on the meeting, don’t you think?”
“We’ll find out soon enough, Skippy,” Andy said. She could hear the amusement in his voice, especially when he shook his head and muttered, “Newbies!”
Andy reached for the door to the manager’s section then stepped to the side when he saw Sandy heading out.
“Heya, beautiful, what’s cooking?” Kris grabbed Sandy’s hand as she passed. He whirled her into what he obviously thought passed as a waltz.
Andy snorted and headed into the inner sanctum alone. Rosie would have followed but her path was blocked by the dancing duo.
“Thought any more about going out on a date with me, Sandy? I was thinking we’d go dancing, maybe enter us in Dancing with the Stars. We’d be good together, you and me.”
“First of all, I’m not a star and neither are you, so we couldn’t get on that show.” Sandy laughed. “Second, one of these days you’re going to do that to the wrong woman, and you’re going to find yourself in front of a judge. Either being sued or married.”
He grabbed his heart and staggered back. “No! Not the M word!”
“Kris, we’re waiting for you,” Chad’s voice echoed from Sam’s office.
Sandy blushed. “Sorry, Kris. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“It’s not your fault, Sandy,” Rosie said. “Kris’s day isn’t complete unless he causes at least one melodrama.” She gestured to Kris who grinned in return. “Come on, mat-kisser, let’s find out who we’re protecting this time.”
Chad greeted them at the door and told them to take a seat. Andy had made himself comfortable on a loveseat at the far end of Sam’s office, leaving the two visitor’s chairs empty. While Rosie perched on the edge of the farthest leather chair, Kris hesitated. He glanced again at Sam before relaxing enough to sit in the second, though even sitting, he seemed to stay at attention. Chad closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms folded.
Sam stood behind his desk, his back to the room, arms folded across his chest as he stared out the window. He’d abandoned his jacket on his chair. The crisp linen of his shirt stretched taut over his biceps and broad shoulders. And even though it was October, he appeared tanned. He must have had some down time in Miami, Rosie thought. His thick dark brows were longer than the dark hair he kept closely cropped – a change since the summer when he’d shaved his head completely bald. The slight slant of his eyes and high cheekbones made her wonder if there was some mixed heritage a few generations back. Perhaps some Native American? Hawaiian, maybe?
The amusement that had been in his eyes at the fundraiser had been doused and now irritation radiated from him like a lighthouse beacon.
Rosie shared a look with Kris and Andy. Who’d fucked up and how?
There was silence for a minute as Chad waited for Sam to speak. When it became obvious Sam intended on ignoring them, Chad nodded to himself and took a deep breath. “Sam’s been receiving threats so I’m assigning you to be his personal guards.”
He opened a folder from Sam’s desk and handed them each a picture of Hauberk’s owner in a brushed cotton shirt, and blue jeans mingling with several other similarly clad people in an outdoor setting. “It started with this photo the day after Labor Day. More arrived, each a few weeks apart.”
Rosie recognized Rock Creek’s Carter Barron amphitheatre. Which meant any one of several thousand attending the annual Blues Festival could have taken the picture. The next picture was one of Sam jogging on a residential street. A circle had been drawn in red ink over his chest.
Chad handed them more pictures. The first was a high quality photograph that could have been taken by a professional. The next two were grainy. But all had red targets drawn on his chest.
Kris fingered the third one, of Sam exiting the Hauberk building. “From the blue hue of this one and the pixellation, it looks like it was taken from an older cell phone.”
“Or it could be blue because one of the colors of ink in the printer was running low, Skippy,” Andy said.
Rosie glanced at Kris’s before studying the next better quality photo-this one of Sam parking his Harley Road King in front of a large red brick Colonial building-an elite club from the looks of it. Whenever she’d seen him at the office he was in tailored suits, but in the photo he was wearing a leather biker jacket and a pair of leather pants that clung to him like a second skin. If she hadn’t already admired his ass, this picture would have clinched the deal.
Andy exchanged pictures with Rosie, this one of Sam holding open the door as a leggy blonde got out of his Jaguar.
She held it up closer, wishing she had a magnifying glass handy. “I’d say this one was shot through a window. There’s a reflection.”
Sam whirled toward them, his jaw snapping closed, his lips tightening as he glared first at her, then at Chad. “I thought you said-”
He bit off the remainder of his comment and some sort of nonverbal exchange occurred-but about what Rosie couldn’t tell. Somehow she had a feeling it was about her. Though why, she couldn’t guess. Her record at Hauberk was spotless.
“We’ll discuss it later, Sam.” Chad handed them copies of another photo. “This one arrived last night-they broke into his place, disarmed the security and left it on his bed.”
If she hadn’t recognized the setting and his suit, she’d never known it was Sam, considering his face had been digitally removed and replaced with blood, brains and gore.
“Didn’t they set off the silent alarm?” Andy asked.
“Nope, whoever it was knew the code to turn it off. Security tapes show a male entering through the lobby, bold as brass. Had a hood up, and he faced away from the cameras as if he knew they were there.”
“So no description,” Andy finished in disgust.
“We know it’s probably a male between 5’10 and 6’2, no age, no hair color, possibly white but we’re not even sure of that.”
“Just dandy. That narrows it down a whole bunch.” Andy straightened from his place on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned in. “Didn’t the guard on duty check his ID before he let him in?”
“He was…otherwise occupied.”
Andy snorted. “Tell me the idjit wasn’t in the bathroom givin’ himself a hand job or smokin’ up.”
“He said he’d left his desk to investigate the smell of pot coming from the stairwell. Says he wasn’t out of sight from the front door for more than sixty seconds. I figure it was probably more like a couple minutes. In any case, we’re re-examining the building’s security.” Chad tossed the file folder on Sam’s desk, then hitched one hip on the desk. “Sam’s also received threatening calls to his home phone.”
“Three.” They looked up as one, startled that Sam had rejoined the conversation. “You’re making it sound like I’ve received dozens. I’ve only received three calls.”
From the corner of her eye, Rosie saw Chad shaking his head in frustration.
“Did you recognize the voice?” she asked.
“No. It was a male, no accent that I could hear, street noises in the background but nothing recognizable.” He bit the words out. “First time he talked about how he’d seen me that day and how easy it would be to take me out. How he wished he’d had his gun, then he hung up. He’s gotten a bit more creative since but nothing specific about what I did to make him want to kill me.” He resumed his study of the parking lot.
“What’s Caller ID show?” Kris asked.
“He’s using pay phones at various locations around the city,” Chad answered when Sam didn’t respond. “We’ve checked the addresses, but so far there’ve been no security cameras near the phones. When we dusted the phones for prints, they’d been wiped clean.”
While Kris, Chad and Andy continued to discuss who might have that information, and how easy it might or might not be to find, Rosie let the conversation flow past her and observed Sam ignoring them all. He had eschewed protection for three months, and even now stood in front of a window, a clear target. Was he trying to prove his invincibility? That he wasn’t afraid?
His eyes scanned the rear parking lot, the field beyond. Alert. Aware. But not an ounce of fear.
Maybe he was being driven by guilt. Did he have a death wish? Because if he did, that would make her job that much harder.
She glanced back down at the photo of the leggy blonde. What she wouldn’t give for another eight inches in height and blonde hair. She’d tried peroxide once, but it wasn’t worth the trouble, not with her complexion. But maybe she should consider it again if that’s what it took to get Sam Watson’s attention.
In the reflection of the glass, his eyes met hers. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t, the darkness of his gaze drawing her in, compelling her to keep the contact. There was heat in his gaze, need.
“With all due respect, Mr. Watson, may I ask you to move away from the window? If someone is watching, you’re presenting a good target right now,” Rosie said, glad to hear her voice was steady.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Sam sat in his chair. There was a flare of frustration in his eyes before he veiled his expression.
No, not guilt. Frustration at having to place his life in someone else’s hands. Sam Watson was a pride-filled ego-driven walking pile of testosterone.
I’m not letting this whacko get you on my watch, buddy. Better a hit to your ego than your life.
As if sensing her challenge, Sam leaned back, dropping his chin to his chest. His gaze dropped from hers to her lips, then made a leisurely perusal of her chest before slowly travelling a reverse route and catching her gaze once more.
Ready to burst into flames, she dropped her gaze to his lips and imagined them kissing her breasts, his teeth nipping and catching her nipples, suckling them. His fingers flexed, drawing her attention. What would it feel like to have those long fingers caress her bare skin, blaze a trail down her stomach, down to that aching area between her thighs and stroke her clit, pressing deep inside-
“-you think, Rosie?”
Rosie blinked and looked at Kris, who nudged her with his knee. He was staring at her as if she’d grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead.
“Don’t you agree?” he asked as if repeating a question.
Agree? To what?
“Yes, I do,” she quickly answered. So unprofessional, her conscience lectured. Your boss needs a bodyguard, not a lover. Besides, she had an unbreakable rule about never dating co-workers. A glance at Sam and that one tilted eyebrow told her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about instead of work. “Who else knows the security code of your condo?”
“Me,” Sam said with not a little irritation. “My cleaning crew, and it’s probably on file somewhere here in case of emergency-Sandy may have it. The IT guys possibly could access it.”
“I hate to say this, but it’s looking like an inside job.” Andy set the photos he’d collected on the desk. “I think we should look at Hauberk employees-those who might have received a bad report, or have recently quit.”
“Goddamn it! It’s not a Hauberk employee.” Sam laced his fingers together, clasping them so hard the nail beds were white.
“Andy’s right, Sam. We can’t rule anybody out at this time,” Chad said quietly. “Very few people have access to your private phone number. Even less to your security code.”
Rosie recognized the Voice of Reason coming out in him, and heard the steel behind it as well. As much as Sam Watson was bucking the truth, Chad wouldn’t let him ignore it.
Go Chad.
“They could have pretexted the phone number from the goddamned phone company. From security at the condo. You know how easy it is to get information-they phone up and pretend they’re me, or my mother, for Christ’s sake.” Sam took a deep breath and continued in a more normal tone, though his smooth southern accent had disappeared.
“Damn it, Chad. It’s not an employee. Not one of mine. You know everyone has to go through background checks.” He swiveled his chair around to the window again, his head resting on his thumb and forefinger at his temple. “It’s not an employee.”
She wanted to reach over and lay her hand on his but knew she couldn’t. Instead she sat back, considering the ramifications that it might be someone they worked with. The idea that someone she worked with might wish ill of their boss was terrifying, especially given the capabilities and backgrounds of some of her co-workers.
Chad cleared his throat. “We’ll assume Sam’s safe while he’s inside this building. Besides if anyone did try anything, there’ll be enough people around to stop whoever it is.”
If it was one of them, Sam might be safer out of the office.
“Outside of the office, I want you to treat this as a high-level protection assignment. We have no idea what type of attack to expect. We have no idea what to expect-watch for a sniper, a close attack, or even a bomb.”
Sam cursed-not low enough to be said it was under his breath, but loud enough to let them know Chad’s suggestion annoyed him.
He shot a look at Sam who sighed and nodded his head once. “I want at least two of you with him from the moment he leaves this building to when he walks back in the next day. You escort him everywhere he goes. Don’t forget to check his mail every day and make sure there are no nasty surprises in it. Don’t take anything for granted.”
“You can do that, Rosie. Real guys don’t check the mail.” Kris grinned and stuck out his foot until his toe bumped hers.
Sam shot out of his chair so fast that his chair bounced off the wall behind him. He leaned across the desk, grinding his fists into the desktop. “Ms. Ramos is one of Hauberk’s top CPOs. She deserves your respect, not your sexist bullshit. You hear me?”
A flush rose up Kris’s neck as his lips pressed together so hard they turned white. “Yes, sir, Mr. Watson.”
Chad cleared his throat. “Why don’t you three step out for a moment?”
Kris stood, his naval training showing in his rigid posture. From a movement of his hand, Rosie would have bet he was forcing himself not to salute as they left the office.