by Mia Dymond
Royal Pains (Watchdogs, Inc., Book 2)
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EPILOGUE
Royal Pains
Watchdogs, Inc., Book 2
By
Mia Dymond
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2017 Mia Dymond
Published on Smashwords
Cover photo: Valuavitaly|Dreamstime.com
Cover by Rita Toews
* * *
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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CHAPTER ONE
Something or someone had a death wish.
From deep in the blissful layers of sleep, Bailey’s eardrums threatened to bleed from the sound of something loud, deeply annoying, and determined to interrupt her vegetative state. She awoke enough to frown, focus one eardrum on the now-silent atmosphere, and then slip back into relaxation while her mind pushed her back into dreamland.
Abstract images danced through her brain, luring her deeper into contented euphoria and away from reality. Soft, pastel colors blended into peaceful clouds that enveloped her body and erased her cares. Muscle by muscle her body sank against the mattress, warmed by the surrounding sheets and comforter.
And then the noise interrupted again.
This time, she sat straight up in bed while her brain processed the sound of her cell phone and she mentally scolded herself for choosing the ringtone that sounded like a foghorn. She kicked back the covers and reached for the noisy nuisance. Answering was a no-brainer; a call at this hour most likely wasn’t good news.
She connected the call without bothering to look at the screen. “Hello, this is Bailey.”
“Oh, Bailey! Thank goodness you answered.”
Still lost in a sleepy fog, she fought to recognize the voice. “Jane?”
“Yes, dear. I’m afraid there’s been a problem at the resort.”
She dug deep for patience, not entirely surprised by Jane Decker’s call. Working with wealthy clients required both patience and overtime.
“Did you contact the Concierge?”
“Yes, he’s aware of the problem.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, desperate to dive back under the sheets. “What can I do to help?”
“We’ll need a flight out as soon as possible. We just discovered a corpse in our closet.”
Realization shocked her like a bucket of cold water and suddenly sleep was light years away. “Jane, did you just tell me you found a corpse in your closet?”
“Yes. We’ve been given a new suite but Harrison and I think it would be better to relocate altogether.”
“Of course. I’ll schedule the earliest flight available.” She cleared her throat. “Are you and Mr. Decker holding up okay?”
“We’re a bit rattled but the Concierge has made us comfortable for the time being.”
“Good. I’ll make some calls and get back to you soon.”
Now wide awake with adrenaline racing through her veins, she squeezed her phone in one hand while she untangled her legs from the covers and stood. What on Earth was a corpse doing in Jane Decker’s closest? Not that it really had a choice in the matter, but a lifeless body wasn’t the usual type of guest at the five-star resort. She frowned. Her job as a travel agent was to send her clients to a safe environment, not a murderous one. Now she had no choice but to get to the bottom of things.
She yanked open a dresser drawer with her free hand, grabbed a pair of socks and pulled them onto her feet. At least Mr. and Mrs. Decker were safe for the moment. She lifted her phone and pressed a familiar icon. The airline would have to be her second call.
She pushed her hair over one shoulder and listened to the ringing tones while she mentally rewound what she’d just heard. Jane Decker had discovered a corpse at the Sea Gull Regency. Unbelievable.
The resort boasted an elite clientele and benefited quite handsomely. Security was tight. In fact, checking in to the place almost took an act of Congress. Immensely popular, the hotel was booked at least a year in advance and very rarely accepted last minute reservations - unless you had connections – and although it had recently undergone a name change from White Sands to the Seagull Regency, absolutely nothing else had changed.
She paused in her silent analysis when a low, husky, male voice tickled her eardrum and caressed every single nerve ending in her body. Each smooth, raspy word touched her inner ear as if he had whispered them specifically for her listening pleasure. Sex-on-a-stick, that voice; she could lose herself for days in the cadence. Except, her appreciation was cut short when she realized he’d asked her to leave a message. So much for intimate whispers.
She released a hard sigh and pressed the end button. Hers was not a leave-a-message kind of call. No, she’d simply have to go with Plan B; the airline moved to third on the list.
***
In the darkness of his office, Master Chief Tyson “Ice” Arnett sat in his soft, leather executive’s chair behind his desk, rested his head back against the top, and pinched the bridge of his nose while he ran the current bitch of a case through his brain for the thousandth time. What was he missing? For the last two days, he reviewed evidence until his eyes crossed and interviewed witnesses until his tongue numbed, only to come up empty-handed. Even the thousands of laps he swam didn’t make a difference. He released a hard breath and rewound his brain one more time only to come to the same conclusion. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing.
Ready to call it a night, he rolled his head to one side toward the only light in the room that brightened the screen of the computer wired to the front gate’s surveillance camera, intrigued when movement caught his attention. Located in the middle of nowhere with state-of-the-art security gates surrounding the perimeter, nothing or no one dared lurk in the dark near the Watchdogs, Inc. compound. Cameras recorded activity twenty-four/seven and entrance onto the grounds required clearance. Which led him to believe this visitor was either lost or insane.
He sat forward and then smirked when he focused on a familiar red convertible – top down – that approached the security gate. Seconds later, the blonde driver reached out of the car window and punched a series of numbers into the keypad. The gate slid open and his smirk stretched into a wide grin.
Bailey King.
Question marks poked his b
rain while she drove through the open gate. What was she doing out alone this time of night? Why hadn’t she called? And most importantly, how did she know the code to open the gate?
Still insanely curious, he watched her drive the distance to the front of the office, park the car, then step out. He left his office and wasted no time in meeting her at the front door.
“Did we have an appointment at one o’clock in the morning?”
“No,” she drawled. “I just stopped by to say hello.”
He took in her appearance, both aroused and surprised. Her long, tight, black exercise pants and pink sleeveless tank top weren’t her usual attire. Same for the white sneakers on her feet. Her long blonde hair had been pushed up on her head in some sort of messy ponytail/bun kind of thing and secured by a butterfly clip. Relaxed and sexy as hell.
“I see you dressed for the occasion.”
“I was sleeping,” she mumbled.
“How did you get in the gate?”
“I entered the code.”
“Okay.” He suppressed the urge to grin. Damn, her smart mouth made him hard. “Who gave you the code?”
“Diesel.”
Her admission both gave him pause and made perfect sense. Of course the captain provided it; she never would have gotten in otherwise. Still, he felt the need to press.
“Diesel knew you were coming?”
She nodded. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Both curious and bothered by the fact she hadn’t called him, he didn’t attempt to mince words. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
Immediately, he reached for his phone and pressed the button on the side to lighten the screen. Sonuvabitch. He had missed her call.
“It’s on silent,” he mumbled. “Maybe you’d better fill me in.”
“It’s not a big deal, really.” She released a soft breath as she moved one hand across her forehead. “I just need you to help me figure out what to do with a body.”
“Well, that depends.” He smirked, impressed by her excuse for a late-night visit. “Your body or just any old body?”
“A dead body.”
His smirk immediately fell to a frown when he realized he had it all wrong; she hadn’t come for a rendezvous, she was serious. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“One of my clients just found a corpse in her closet at the Sea Gull Regency on Sea Gull Island.”
He paused to process the information that pelted him like machine gun fire. She was a travel agent, for Pete’s sake. How in the hell did she get mixed up in something like this?
He released a hard breath. “And you want to know what to do with it?”
“Not literally.” She gave him a trademark eyeroll. “She alerted the Concierge, who I’m sure called the police. I’d just like to know what I can do about it.”
“Nothing.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that, but nothing isn’t an option.”
“I don’t really want to know, but why?”
“Because I send a lot of people there and I don’t want to continue until I know details.”
“You have contacts at the resort.”
“Yes, but they’ll only tell me what they want me to know. I need the truth.”
“And you think I can get it?”
“We can get it.”
Ah, now he understood. Mischievous she-devil. “You’d do better just to steer clear. Believe me when I say you should let the dead sleep.”
“I’m going with or without you.”
He regarded her silently for a moment, amused that she thought her threat would sway his decision. Besides the fact that there was no way in hell she could get around him without his permission, he knew her well enough to know that although she was blessed with a multitude of common sense, she also had a stubborn streak that made her a very determined woman. He also knew an ultimatum of his own would only fuel her fire and she was so damn sexy when she was worked up that he couldn’t resist her.
Instead, he dug deeper. “Do you know who was in the closet?”
“No.”
“Why is it necessary for you to find out?”
“Regardless of who was in the closet,” she said matter-of-factly, “my professional reputation is at stake. I don’t want to risk sending my clients to an unsafe environment.”
Okay, so she had a logical point but still, he wasn’t convinced it was worth nosing around a murder scene.
“You send people all over the world. Why is that resort so special?”
“Security.”
He lifted an eyebrow and smirked.
“Well, normally,” she said with a huff. “And privacy.”
He did a quick mental review of what he knew about the resort, which wasn’t much. The multi-million-dollar compound, surrounded by a tall, partitioned barrier designed to keep the looky-loos out, occupied the whole east end of Sea Gull Island. Other than the resort, only an airport with a landing strip and a marina took up space. Obviously, there was something to be said about the security; Watchdogs, Inc. had never worked a case there.
Until now.
“I’m assuming you have a plan.”
“I do.”
“Care to share?”
“We’ll stay there and investigate.”
Although he’d never agree, he couldn’t help but push her. “Did you make a reservation?”
“I don’t really need one, but yes.”
He tilted his head to one side. This kept getting better and better. “You made a reservation for us?”
“Not exactly.” She bit down on her bottom lip, a trait he knew from experience meant she was about to make a confession she didn’t really want to. “Grace and I have a suite reserved but you know darn well Harvard won’t let her go anywhere when you tell him about the corpse.”
Now not entirely opposed, he tossed the idea around in his head. Alone with Bailey on a secluded island – he’d either go insane with annoyance, lust or both.
“Do you snore?”
“Funny, but you’ll never know.”
“I will if we stay together.”
“There are two bedrooms in the suite.”
He nodded, partly relieved, partly not. “I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out.”
“Our reservation is booked for tomorrow night. I’ll schedule the flights for the early evening.”
He frowned. “Bailey, Sea Gull Island is a thirty-minute ferry ride from here.”
“Yes, but we’ll have more credibility as guests if we fly.”
“Hardly. In fact, if we take my boat it won’t even take thirty minutes.”
“Your boat?”
He nodded. “The Frogman.”
“Really, I can have the flights comped by the resort.”
“I thought you were anxious to find out what’s going on.”
“I am.”
“So, we’ll take my boat. Can you be ready to go by five thirty p.m.?”
She didn’t immediately answer and he waited for the continued argument. He figured she paused to gather steam. Instead, she gave a resigned sigh.
“Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up then.”
She bit that plump, glossy lip again and he braced himself. Another negotiation, no doubt. He should have known she wouldn’t give in so easily.
“Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I have a friend coming to house sit and since you decided to redesign my security system, someone will have to let her in.”
“Who?”
“Well, that’s up to you. I assumed Harvard or Diesel.”
“No, I meant who’s your friend?”
“You don’t need to investigate my houseguests, Ice.”
He simply widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest, prepared to wait her out as long as necessary.
“Fine,” she relented. “My college roommate.”
“Name?”
<
br /> “Trista Anderson.”
“Seriously?”
“Obviously, you know the name.”
“Who doesn’t?” He just had no idea Bailey had a close friend in the insanely-famous fashion designer. “Is she coming with a security detail?”
“I don’t think so. She indicated it would give her a chance to relax.”
He paused when his cell phone chirped in his pocket, announcing an incoming text message. He removed the device, glanced at the screen, and then returned it to his pocket.
“Harvard and Diesel are on the way. Camp out on my sofa until we’re done and then I’ll follow you home.”
“Now? It’s after one o’clock a.m.”
He shrugged. “You’re the one who called Diesel.”
“I called you first,” she reminded him.
“You could’ve left a voicemail.”
“But then you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of my company.”
He bit back a smile, impressed by her quick retort while he swallowed his admission that her statement was absolutely correct. Except, experience told him that the pleasure of her company was a double-edged sword.
He unfolded his arms, moved one hand to the small of her back, and then urged her out of the front office and down the hallway. “We won’t be long. There’s not much we can do until morning.”
“Grace is going to kill me,” she mumbled.
“Relax, one body is enough for one night. Besides, neither of them have far to go.”
She really had nothing to worry about; Diesel rarely slept so Harvard would be the only one leaving a warm bed. And if past experience was any indication, Grace could smooth things over.
“Make yourself at home.” He gestured with one hand at the sofa as he heard the telltale beep that the back entrance had been breached. “See? They’re right on time.”
Bailey watched Ice and his magnificent backside leave the office, convinced she’d just made a deal with the devil. She exhaled loudly as she kicked off her shoes and then sat on his black leather sofa with her feet curled underneath her. She didn’t regret coming to Ice for help; she had no doubt he would get to the bottom of things. Yet, convincing him to allow her to help would be a bloody battle.
