“S’okay with me, lass. You call the shots. You know I’m ready to get out whenever you want.” He paused again, giving her the chance to say something, but she let the silence linger. Finally, he said, “I’ll get on this and get back to you. Play it safe.” And then he was gone.
She put down the phone and walked over to her hotel room balcony. She had a killer view of Block Island Sound. The sun danced off the water where mega yachts bobbed gently on the waves. The ultra-rich were probably sleeping off the revelry of the previous evening since very few were visible on their floating palaces. She glanced at the picture Leo had sent her of Drake’s yacht and hunted down the rows of expensive toys.
There. The last one in the far row. She had booked a room with a balcony on this side of the hotel for this very reason. She’d talked to the kid at the marina office the other day and after greasing the wheels with a fifty, he mentioned there’d been some sort of last-minute fight about the yacht’s positioning, though nothing had come of it. She wondered if his new security guy had demanded the yacht be moved to make it harder for outsiders to access Drake. Not that it was likely his boss had cooperated. Drake was not one to keep a low profile.
Case in point. There were three bikini-clad babes already lying in the sun on Drake’s yacht, each clutching a drink. The faint strains of dance music carried on the breeze. She was willing to bet it was coming from his yacht.
As if to confirm her thoughts, a fourth bikini-clad babe emerged from below and danced her way over to the others. Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. European then. Not too many Americans smoked these days. She nodded to herself. She never knew what details might come in handy when planning the perfect heist.
While it wasn’t surprising to see the babes on Drake’s yacht, it was interesting that the man himself wasn’t with them. She’d heard a rumor that he occasionally threw parties full of beautiful people that he himself did not attend. He’d walk through now and again, say “hello” to all the right people, and then disappear.
She had paid his former employees generously for information. She couldn’t get much out of any of them, but the general consensus was that he hated parties but understood they were necessary. Was that how he saw the posse of pretty girls on his yacht? A necessity? She’d have to do some more digging. He was big on privacy, and the ex-employees were all worried he would find out they violated the confidentiality contract, so she’d have to find another way.
She turned around and went back into the room. After pouring herself another cup of black tea and adding a hint of sugar, she grabbed the client file and returned to the balcony. The tea and the file went onto the small cafe table next to the lounge chair, and she took off her robe to reveal her own teal bikini.
Releasing a satisfied sigh, she made herself comfortable on the chair. She studied the yacht again as she leaned back and sipped her tea. This was one of the better ways to do recon. God knew, she had done her share of crappy ones.
She watched as the babe in the purple bikini got up to greet someone under the canopy of the yacht. The rest of the bikini bunch followed. “Drake,” she mumbled. Had to be. Sure enough, Drake’s familiar figure emerged from underneath the canopy a few seconds later.
His shape was similar to that of his bodyguards, tall and well-built, but he carried himself differently. A tiger came to mind. He was wearing dress pants and a white button-down. His rolled sleeves were his only concession to the early heat wave. He greeted each of the girls with a peck on the cheek and chatted with them.
The purple bikini girl rubbed herself against Drake’s arm and then a babe in a black bikini followed suit. Alex gritted her teeth. It always bothered her when she saw women throw themselves at wealthy men, or any men for that matter. The men weren’t worth it. An image of her father came to mind. He certainly hadn’t been worth all the agony her mother went through. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No need to think about the past.
It was interesting that she had never heard any complaints about Drake before. In most cases, she had heard multiple stories about her marks before she took the job. They tended to be repeat offenders in the treat-people-like-shit category.
The majority of women who got involved with a man like Drake understood the game they were playing. The young girls liked rich, famous men because they got into the hottest clubs and were treated as part of the “in crowd.” Being the flavor of the month or week, as the case might be, they hoped they would either land the whale permanently or meet another, slightly smaller, fish. But most of them knew the rules going in.
The older women, the ones who had their own money, did it for the profile bump. They got to be wined and dined and had a date for all the best social events. Those affairs usually ended by mutual decision, or at least that’s what she had been told in the past by some previous clients. No one wanted to admit to being dumped if they were over a certain age.
Hell, most people weren’t willing to admit it regardless of their age or position.
Alex had received requests from many scorned women over the years. In the beginning, it had taken her a while to realize which ones were truly crushed and which ones just wanted to use her to exact revenge. She wasn’t into that. Now she could sort the legitimately distraught from the wounded-ego crowd in a heartbeat. Usually. Something about this client was different.
She reached out and grabbed the file. Flipping it open, she reviewed Leo’s notes. Diana Sterling was a well-known socialite with power and connections of her own. She was part of the over-forty crowd, and her husband, Jeffery, had a good ten years on her. Apparently, Jeffery had gone through some sort of mid-life crisis and left Diana for some young thing or other, maybe even several young things. The breakup had been crushing for Diana, and her normal good sense had abandoned her. Hence the affair with Jameson Drake.
The surprising thing was that Drake, by all accounts, had treated her well. Diana had ended the relationship to return to the ex who’d treated her like dirt.
Comparing the pictures of Jameson Drake and Jeffery Sterling, Alex couldn’t understand Diana’s choice. Whereas Drake was handsome, fit, and tall, Sterling was short with no neck. He had the profile of a stubby beer bottle. He wasn’t aging well either. He had a fringe of hair left on top of his head and a gut to rival Santa Claus.
Well, to each her own.
She turned the page to take another peek at the picture of the car Diana wanted her to retrieve. Not only was the car rare, but it was stunningly beautiful. She studied the picture for a minute before returning her attention to Leo’s notes again, searching for any details she might have missed on the first run through.
Diana had purchased it for her husband’s birthday as a surprise, but Jeffery had already left her by the time it arrived. Diana had been pissed enough to give it to Drake.
Then Jeffery had come crawling back. Leo had found out from Diana’s housekeeper that Diana had made him pay dearly for the humiliation he had put her through. A huge new house in Aspen and an apartment in Paris with an Eiffel Tower view, but she’d ultimately let him back into their Central Park apartment and their huge estate just down the road in the Hamptons.
Now Diana had a major issue on her hands. She needed the birthday gift back, and pronto. According to her, she’d never officially signed anything over to Drake, but he was refusing to give it back. Leo had suggested to Diana to go to the cops for a resolution, and it amused Alex to no end to picture Diana Sterling’s reaction to that. No, the matter had to be handled discreetly. So here she was on a balcony in the Hamptons staking out Jameson Drake.
It wasn’t the most moving story, and Alex typically preferred to work with women who were legitimately heartbroken over the breakup and whatever they’d lost to it. Still, Diana’s story was just a different spin on the usual one, and her embarrassment and shame was just as genuine. Her separation from her husband hadn’t just shattered her heart—it had stripped her of her social position.
Alex understood.
Being shunned and laughed at by members of society could drive people to do horrible, illogical things. Her mother had been proof enough of that. She shook her head and dropped the file back onto the table. This wasn’t the time to think about her mother.
She would get the car back so Diana Sterling could put this whole episode behind her and move on with her life. That was what Alex did.
She checked on the yacht. Another shadow moved under the canopy, and she strained her eyes to see who or what it was. She grabbed her binoculars and sat back in her chair, making sure they were fully in the shade so the sun wouldn’t reflect off the lenses. Then she slouched a little to make sure she was hidden behind the wrought iron bars of the balcony railing.
After putting the binoculars to her face, she focused them so she could see beyond the bars and down into the yacht below. As her field of vision passed over the covered area, she saw the shadow move again. It was a man with dark hair, but he had his back to her.
A security guard? She didn’t think so from the way he was standing. He seemed to be arguing with Drake. There were two other men flanking him who did look a lot like security. Lightweight shirts that were untucked. Heads on a swivel. They gave off the vibe of good security. And they weren’t Drake’s guys. At least they weren’t the ones she’d seen last night.
She grabbed her camera and zoomed in. The guy had his back to her, so she still couldn’t see much. She took a couple of shots anyway. He became more animated. Yes, this man and Drake were definitely arguing.
The stranger turned his head to the side, and she snapped off a half-dozen shots. She glanced through them, but none of them gave more than a slight glimpse of the man’s face. He appeared to be clean shaven and his hair was neat. His skin tone appeared to be a bit olive, which meant little. He could be of Hispanic origin, from any Mediterranean country, or just have a great tan. The shots weren’t close enough to pick out details.
She was mystified. She’d thought she knew all the major players in Drake’s world. And this guy was someone important. He was dressed impeccably and gave off the vibe of money and position. She scanned the rest of the boat using her binoculars, catching a glimpse of Drake’s security team before returning to the mystery man and Drake. She had a good view of Drake’s face, and his expression was stone cold. He was livid. Whoever this was, whatever was going on, it wasn’t good news.
Balcony James Bond stepped into view, a cell phone in one hand. Well, wasn’t this interesting? He leaned in close to Drake’s ear and presumably said something meaningful since Drake immediately shifted his focus away from his guest and took the proffered cell phone. He moved out of view, leaving his security guy to deal with the powerful stranger, which he did quickly. The next moment, the man in the suit and his security people were on their way off the yacht.
Intriguing. She studied the sexy security guy who’d handled that high-powered guest as if he were a grade-school kid. The aviator glasses he had on covered his eyes, but the rest of him was now visible. Dressed in cargos and a loose T-shirt, he was imposing. And hot. Her fingers tingled with the memory of how his chest had felt beneath them, a mass of solid muscle. A familiar warmth started to spread through her. A night with this guy could be great fun. What was the name she’d heard him use on the balcony? Callahan. She must remember to tell Leo when she went back inside. Too bad he was Drake’s guy.
She paused. Maybe this Mr. Callahan could be her way in? It was risky, trying to seduce Drake’s bodyguard. What if it didn’t work? What if he didn’t go for her?
She chortled to herself. That hadn’t happened since high school. Not that she was so amazingly beautiful, she just understood how to stroke a man’s ego…and other things should it become necessary. She grinned.
But it would make it that much harder to hide once the job was over. If she pulled off the gig—when she pulled it off—his rep would be ruined. That was big in security circles. He’d try to hunt her down and turn her in. She could tell by looking at him. Still, it was an idea. One to keep on the back burner just in case.
After a few more uninspiring minutes of surveillance, she put the binoculars back down on the table and picked up a pen and pad of paper that had been lying there next to an ashtray and some matches.
What had she learned? Drake’s taste in women had changed from the classy Diana to a bevy of young co-eds. That could be useful. Go in as a bikini babe? Nah. She was too old at twenty-eight to get away with it quite so much anymore.
Drake had hired a more legit security team. Why? What was he worried about? Not Diana or her husband, surely. If the mystery man had put Jameson Drake on alert, the guy was a dangerous player. A cloud went over the sun, and she shivered.
Her mind returned to Callahan. If she could get him to trust her, maybe he could fill her in. Well, shit, if she could get Callahan to trust her that much, the mystery man wouldn’t matter. She could just use him to get the car back.
She took a sip of tea and glanced back toward the yacht. Drake had gone off somewhere, but two security guards hid in the shadows. Her mark wasn’t taking chances. Her eyes narrowed. Maybe she shouldn’t either.
Callahan wouldn’t be the only guy who knew things. There would be other people who had almost the same access, but perhaps not as much to lose. A small smile played on her lips as she turned her face to the sun. Yes. That was the key. Find the weak link and exploit it.
Chapter Eight
Mitch ground his teeth in frustration and then made an effort to release his jaw. The last thing he needed now was a big dental bill. “You should have been honest with me from the beginning. If this guy is a serious threat, then I needed to know about him.”
Drake shrugged. “It’s your job to determine who or what is a serious threat, not mine.” He went back to staring at the computer screens arrayed on his desk.
“I understand that. However, a heads-up might have been helpful. I wouldn’t have let him near you had I been made aware of the situation.” Mitch’s hands were closed into fists. He was trying hard not to lose his temper, but it was a tough fight. He’d been with Drake for about six weeks now and still hadn’t earned his trust. It made things very difficult.
His brother, Logan, was so much better at dealing with people’s crap with a poker face. Mitch just didn’t have a high tolerance for bullshit.
Drake’s sigh cut through the room like a knife. “Jason was aware that this might become an issue. Didn’t you speak to him before he took off to whatever godforsaken place he went?”
Mitch did his best to maintain an even tone. “I did speak with Jason. He neglected to mention it.” The guy had neglected to say a lot of things, come to think of it, like Drake’s capacity to be an asshole and his business connections with seriously scary people.
“Not my problem,” Drake stated as he continued to stare at his screens.
“It will be your problem if he or his goons make a run at you. Death tends to be an issue for everyone, no matter how rich or important,” Mitch snarled back.
Drake’s head snapped up from staring at the screen to meet Mitch’s glare. “I would be careful of your tone if I were you. You work for me, not the other way around. I will not have you lecture me.”
“Drake, you can be a ruthless son of a bitch in business all you want, but when it comes to security, you don’t know dick. So let’s not play games here.” Mitch was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help himself. This asshole was risking all their lives by not filling him in on important details. “John Tolliver is an underhanded piece of garbage. He’s dangerous. He and his last business partner had a major falling out, and the partner ended up in a wheelchair. He wouldn’t implicate Tolliver publicly, but privately, it’s a different story.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that rumor as well. It’s your job to see to my security. Are you saying you can’t do your job?”
Mitch wanted very much to break his boss’s nose. “It doesn’t matter how much recon or how many preparations I take, if someone wants you d
ead that badly, sooner or later they will make it happen. That’s just a fact. But I can make it a lot harder and it can take a hell of a lot longer if I know what’s going on.” He glared at Drake. “I have half a mind to quit right now and take my guys with me.”
“We both know you took this job to make your company’s reputation, and I would assume, to help the bottom line. So let’s not kid ourselves about you leaving.”
Mitch jammed his hands in his pockets because the temptation to punch Drake was too intense. “I don’t need any job badly enough to risk my men. Besides, it would be worse if we’re working for you when you get capped. So why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on, and maybe we can figure this out.”
Mitch had spent his entire military career following orders without asking questions. He was done with that life. If he was going to do security work, it was going to happen on his terms. He had told both of his brothers that upfront, and they’d agreed. He certainly wasn’t going to change that for the likes of Jameson Drake.
Drake must have seen that Mitch was serious because he stood abruptly and walked over to the bar area. He pulled out a mug. “Tolliver wants something I have. I don’t want to sell it to him. It’s as simple as that.”
“Sure. That’s why his security has been checking us out for the past twenty-four hours. They’ve been practically casing the yacht.”
Drake picked up the coffee pot and filled the mug. “John Tolliver is a middle man. He has buyers lined up to purchase something I have.” He glanced at Mitch, and whatever he saw made him narrow his eyes and then shrug. “I hired someone to build software for a project of mine. This software has many different possible applications. Somehow, Tolliver got wind of it, probably from his buyer, and he’s been after me for months to sell him the software. He claims his buyer doesn’t care if I still use my copy as long as I don’t sell it to anyone else. I have repeatedly refused.”
Break and Enter: A Sexy, Thrilling Romantic Suspense (Callahan Security Series Book 1) Page 4
