Royal Pains (Watchdogs, Inc. Book 2)

by Mia Dymond

  “Sure you don’t want to participate?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay,” Her gaze sparkled over her coffee cup. “Just remember, flexibility comes in very handy.”

  After breakfast, Ice returned to the suite with Bailey to grab her yoga equipment and then left her at the beach to commune with the other nature lovers at the resort. He enjoyed peace and serenity himself, but enjoying it in the company of attractive women in skimpy bathing suits didn’t exactly relax him.

  In desperate need of distraction from Bailey’s flexibility, he settled into the sofa pillows and clicked the Watchdogs, Inc. icon on his phone.

  Harvard answered the call. “How’s it going in the lap of luxury?”

  “Not bad. The place is a castle. Do we want to talk or video chat?”

  “Let’s just talk. I’m placing you on speaker phone. Diesel’s here too.”

  Ice heard the familiar click and then Diesel spoke in the background. “I heard from Hummingbird Bay PD this morning. Preliminary police reports indicate the victim was Jack Overton, employed by the Sea Gull Regency as the security manager for the last five years.”

  “Do we have a background?”

  “Clean, as expected. No contact with law enforcement other than in the scope of duty. CLEET certified and licensed to carry a firearm.”

  “Was he armed at the time of death?”

  “Prior. Forensics indicate our perp used Overton’s weapon as the murder weapon.”

  He winced. That fact only added insult to injury.

  “It was left behind at the scene,” Harvard added. “No fingerprints, of course.”

  “Professional?”

  “Maybe, or just smart enough to cover his tracks.”

  “Cameras?”

  “Everywhere except inside the rooms.”

  “Do we have a picture of who entered the room?”

  Harvard answered. “No, the film is clean. Once Mr. and Mrs. Decker left for the evening, no one else entered or exited until they returned. Mrs. Decker reported the incident approximately three minutes after the cameras recorded her entrance.”

  “What about the key reader?”

  “One of the keys registered to the Deckers is the only one recorded at eleven fifty p.m.”

  “Then how the hell did our guy get inside the room?”

  “Two possibilities: he scaled the outside of the building or the film was scrubbed.”

  “Both take skill, which leads me to believe we’re dealing with either a professional or a lunatic.”

  “Or a professional lunatic.”

  “Did you get a staff roster?”

  “Affirmative,” Diesel answered. “Harvard checked out all of them.”

  “What about David Green?”

  “Assistant Security Manager. Clean background. Carries the same type of weapon issued to Overton, which is present and accounted for,” Harvard relayed. “His alibi checks out for the time of death. He was in the front lobby, dealing with a belligerent VIP.”

  “Do we have an official cause of death?”

  The sound of clicking computer keys told him Harvard was at the keyboard. “Gunshot wound to the back of the head. Evidence indicates the victim was murdered inside the closet.”

  “Any reason he was inside the room?”

  “Still a mystery. Since he was the security manager, the assumption is that someone reported a disturbance but the incident wasn’t logged.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “According to the report, no. They don’t log every call since most are false alarms.”

  Diesel cleared his throat. “What do you have on the staff?”

  “Daniel Santana is the General Manager and has been since inception. Typical, three-piece suite executive type. Hispanic with an average build and hell-bent on protecting the resort and the guests from the incident.”

  “His background is clean,” Harvard added, “and his alibi checks out. He was at the Guest Services Counter.”

  “Any other security?” Diesel pressed.

  “Only Green.”

  Ice continued to relay information. “The Concierge is a Frenchman named Francois Gerard, Santana’s right-hand man. High-strung guy, focused on guest satisfaction.”

  “According to security footage, he was at his usual station behind the Concierge podium at time of death,” Harvard confirmed.

  “Santana indicated Overton may have had personal issues due to his scheduling some personal leave but I haven’t been able to confirm that. According to the staff I spoke to, he was well-liked and an all-around good guy. Bailey hasn’t heard any rumors of affairs or relationships.”

  “Any disgruntled guests?”

  “Not that I’ve found. I’ll have more of an opportunity to nose around some more tomorrow morning.”

  “What’s tomorrow morning?”

  “Salsa dancing.”

  “What the hell?” the captain drawled.

  “I made Bailey a deal,” he muttered. “Long story.”

  “Whatever you bargained for better be worth it.” Harvard snickered. “Good luck with that.”

  A ringing cell phone interrupted and Ice wondered if the fates were suddenly on his side. At least they could table the discussion on Salsa for the moment. Conversation in the background proved it was Diesel who received the call.

  “I’ve got to go,” the captain said finally. “Keep us updated.”

  Diesel smirked as he left the compound and drove the distance to Bailey’s house. When Rick Ferguson from the Hummingbird Bay PD had called him to report a burglary, his first thought was that he was in deep trouble. Never mind the house, Bailey would have his head on a platter if Trista was in danger. Then, when the detective explained that he only needed him to verify Trista’s identity, he agreed to do just that – in person. He had to admit, he was curious as hell why Ferguson would mistake Trista for a burglar, and better yet, why the detective didn’t recognize her. Maybe her thought that most people didn’t was correct.

  As soon as he arrived at the house, he drove his truck into the driveway and parked between a police car with flashing red and blue lights and a solid white detective’s car. He exited his vehicle, nodded at the uniform in the black-and-white, and then walked toward two other people who stood on the grass outside the front door.

  Trista stood next to Ferguson with her arms crossed over her chest and with a very distressed look over her lovely face while the detective looked relieved to see him. Piercing sirens vibrated the air around them. Immediately, he pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket and pressed four numbers to silence the screamer.

  “Oh, Diesel! Thank God you’re here!” She placed a hand to the base of her throat. “Please tell this gentleman I’m not a burglar.”

  Behind his Aviators, he moved his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and then back again. Dressed in a tight, short-sleeved, black, v-cut top that showcased an amazing rack, and an equally black pair of pants that hugged her hips, she represented the perfect cat burglar. Although, he doubted very seriously the black hooker heels that wrapped her feet would allow her to make a quick, quiet get-away.

  He worked very hard not to grin. “You’re not?”

  “No!”

  “I don’t know.” He moved a hand to squeeze his chin in mock contemplation. “You look dressed to case the place.”

  Ferguson cleared his throat.

  “Funny. It’s your fault I’m under scrutiny anyway.”

  “Really,” he drawled. “How so?”

  “You let me in the house, remember?”

  “I do.”

  “You didn’t bother to tell me the place locks itself down like Ft. Knox when I leave.”

  “You have a code.”

  “Yes, but you also failed to tell me that it can only be entered three times in a row before I’m locked out completely.”

  Damn. She had a point; it had slipped his mind.

  “Actually, it’s Ice’s fault. Bail
ey doesn’t follow orders as well as he’d like.” He turned and nodded at the detective. “Thanks, Rick. I’ll call the security company.”

  He waited until the other man was out of earshot and then turned his attention back to the femme fatale next to him. “What is it about you women and black?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Sexiest color on the planet,” he mumbled. “Too damn distracting.”

  A cock-strangling giggle left her throat and he shifted his weight from one hip to the other.

  “I don’t know about sexy, but it is slimming.”

  He opened his mouth to argue the finer points of her slim figure but then quickly decided against it; that argument could either go very, very well or very, very badly. Instead, he palmed his cell phone and dialed. He authorized the alarm reset and then disconnected.

  “Can I trust you with the code?”

  She stood silent for a moment, one eyebrow lifted as if she carefully considered his question. Hell, he only meant to tease her. Another second passed and then the slow, easy smile that split her lips almost made him tremble.

  “Well, that’s really up to you, Mr. Big.” She took two steps forward into his personal space and moved her finger along his jawbone. “If you do, your work here is done. If you don’t, you’ll have to take me and my sexy, black outfit to your sofa.”

  ***

  Later that evening, Ice stopped in the doorway of the bedroom and damn near cried like a baby as his gaze landed on Bailey. Stretched out on her side of the bed while propped on two pillows with her ankles crossed and a magazine in her hands, she looked up and gave him a definite wicked smile. Obviously she knew exactly how difficult it would be for him to lie next to her without touching, and the smile was only a very minute part of the problem.

  He folded his arms across his chest and braced one hip against the doorjamb. “That’s not what you slept in last night.”

  Where the hell were the long, stretchy pants and t-shirt? Tonight, she wore a bright blue nightgown thing that touched the tops of her thighs with thin straps that wrapped her shoulders. Her breasts nearly spilled over the top and from his observation they weren’t boosted by anything. No, those perfect handfuls of flesh with now-erect nipples smiled just as wickedly as she.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God. This was not a good idea. Nuh-uh, not at all.

  “It’s just a nightgown, Ice. To be honest, your body is a heater and I got warm last night.”

  Yeah, he’d been an inferno himself, but that didn’t compel him to remove his clothing. He unfolded his arms, pushed himself off the doorjamb, and managed a quick peek at the still-behaving beast between his legs as he approached his side of the bed. So far, so good.

  “Good night.”

  He managed to shed his jeans, slide under the sheet without incident, and turn on his side with his back to her. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Yeah, sure.

  “Good night, Ice.”

  Once he heard the magazine slap the nightstand beside her and then the click of the switch of the lamp, he released a slow, steady breath. If he could block out the image of these crisp, cool sheets caressing her beautiful body beneath that sorry-excuse-for-a-nightgown, he’d simply sleep off the temptation.

  And for several minutes, he actually believed that load of bull until she laid a hand on his right biceps.

  “Ice, are you asleep?”

  He released a hard breath, desperately trying to ignore his frustration, and then rolled to face her. Although the room was dark, his gaze zeroed in on her chest.

  “No, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just not sleepy.”

  “Want me to turn on the TV?”

  “No.” She gave a soft sigh. “I thought we could talk.”

  Okay, talking was good. Although, he highly doubted that even murder could distract him at this point.

  “Sure, what about?”

  “I don’t know, anything really.”

  “Are you nervous about being here?”

  “No, thanks to you I feel very safe. Should I be concerned?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Bailey.”

  “You rarely worry.”

  “No,” he admitted. “My training prevents it.”

  “Ice, do you ever miss being in the Navy?”

  “Sometimes I miss the parts out of combat. I don’t miss war.”

  “Like traveling the world?”

  “That was a rush, but no. I prefer the stability of home. Besides, I know a great travel agent if I want to leave.”

  “What about your team?”

  “I miss the guys we lost, but thanks to Diesel I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by most of my team.”

  “How come you’ve never settled down?”

  “You mean with a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve never found the right one, I guess. What about you?”

  “Same reason, I suppose. That and the fact that I travel extensively. I don’t even have houseplants.”

  “And you’re stubborn.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “I’m not stubborn, I’m confident.”

  “Sure you are.”

  He bent one arm at the elbow and then lifted his head to rest it on his hand. “You are stubborn, opinionated, and difficult, but you are also extremely intelligent, compassionate, and kind.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “And I like you just the way you are.”

  “You annoy the heck out of me.” She giggled softly. “But I like you too, Ice.”

  He groaned. “Bailey, I’m trying like hell to be a gentleman here but between your confession and your slinky choice of sleepwear, it’s almost impossible.”

  “I respect your effort.” Rustling sheets told him she moved closer to him and then her hands were pressed flat against his chest while her fingers massaged the indentions of his pecs. “But I think you should throw in the towel.”

  His cock immediately swelled and he pulled her flush against him. “I don’t have anything to protect you.”

  “Oh – “

  He placed a finger across her lips. “But I’ll show you how to get around that.”

  With no reason remaining to stop him, he moved both hands to her hips and rolled her on top of him while he lay flat on his back. He then moved one hand to the base of her neck and urged her lips to meet his.

  She released a tiny whimper and then the warm, pliant woman in his arms morphed into a wild hellcat, opening her mouth over his and rotating her hips against his hard cock. The fabric of her panties nearly rubbed him raw with the force of her motion while her breasts caressed the surface of his chest.

  His tongue left his mouth to meet hers, almost devouring more than kissing her. Undeniable need passed between them and he wondered if it was even remotely possible to satisfy it. Desperate to try, he moved his hands to the top of her gown and gently slid the straps from her shoulders. Much to his delight, her breasts fell into his palms.

  He closed the kiss while his fingertips traced her pebbled nipples. “Easy baby, we’ll get there.”

  “You feel so good,” she murmured.

  He released her nipples to cup the weight of her breasts in both palms. “It only gets better.”

  He moved one hand to grip one of her hips and then slipped the other hand between her legs. Heat seeped from beneath her panties and warmed his skin as he cupped her mound.

  “Smooth and slow.” He guided her hip movement as she rocked against his greedy cock, taking care to make sure he nudged her sweet spot along the way.

  “Oh, yes. Right there,” she moaned.

  On the next forward stroke, he eased his index finger under her panties and pressed it against her hot, wet clit. She responded by grinding harder against him.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

  “So good.”

  He increased the speed of his assault on her flesh, both impatient and patient f
or her to finish.

  “Ah, God,” she panted, “don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  With several more rotations of both her hips and his finger, she released a throaty moan while she pressed her hips solidly to his cock and her body shuddered. Suddenly her panties and the fly of his boxer briefs were soaked. He smiled in the dark. This woman had been thoroughly satisfied.

  “Do you need a high-five?” she asked over a sigh.

  He removed his finger from her body, pressed her flush against him, and massaged her lower back muscles. “Do you have night vision?”

  “No.” She giggled and his cock twitched. “I just figured you were pretty proud of yourself.”

  “Should I be?”

  “Most definitely.” She pressed several small kisses to the surface of his chest. “But now I get to return the favor.”

  She moved down his body, pressing kisses to each bare patch of skin along the way until she stopped at the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

  “Be gentle,” he told her as he buried both hands into her hair.

  “My pleasure.”

  He lifted his hips and when she peeled back his clothing, his cock sprang free and demanded her absolute attention. Without hesitation, she leaned over the impatient beast, released a long, hot breath, and then closed her mouth over his length.

  His hips thrust of their own accord, sending him further into the confines of her mouth, and her throat muscles closed around him and gripped him in a nice, tight suction, rendering him helpless for the moment. Pure, sweet satisfaction coated his nerves and made him drunk with desire. She loosened her hold and moved her mouth up his shaft to his overly-sensitive head where her tongue dipped into the slit and then over the smooth surface. Her hand then wrapped the base of his cock.

  “So hard,” she murmured as she squeezed him tight in her fist and began to stroke.

  He released his hold on her hair and settled into her tempo, hopeful that he could hold on long enough to enjoy her ministrations for a few minutes at least. Her nice, tight strokes continued to fuel the need for release and his abdominals burned with the force of his attempt to hold back. He had no desire to escape the ecstasy of being wrapped in her soft, capable, talented hands while she stroked him to satisfaction.