She and Reggie were heading down there for a relative’s wedding this weekend. “Thanks. See you Monday.”
Waving over his shoulder, he walked into the conference room which had doubled in size with the renovations they’d made two months ago. Parker’s company had done the original transformation of the warehouse into office space downstairs, bunk rooms and living quarters upstairs, and a vehicle garage in the back half of the building. There had been some unused space that had been walled off until Trident needed it, which happened when they hired more personnel—the Omega team. Returning, Parker had added more offices and expanded the conference room and Brody’s war-room. While he loved having more space for his computers and electronic toys, he wasn’t exactly thrilled Ian and Devon had hired another computer geek. Their reasoning was they would be screwed if anything happened to him, which, although he didn’t like it, he understood. At least when the new guy, Nathan Cook, arrived next week, he’d be in charge of the Omega team’s intel gathering so Brody’s workload wasn’t doubled to accommodate both teams. He and Parker had designed the updated war-room so both geeks would have their own space, yet have full access to whatever computer setup was needed.
Most of the Omega team was already in the conference room, which he’d expected since all but two of them were still using the bunk rooms upstairs until they had a chance to find permanent housing. But there was no rush for that. He took note of who was present and accounted for since he was leading tonight’s detail. Valentino “Romeo” Mancini, Cain Foster, and Tristan McCabe were studying the floor plans of the ballroom and surrounding areas of the Hilton. While across the room, Darius “Batman” Knight and Kip “Skipper” Morrison were involved in a conversation with Ian and Mousaf Amar. The only person not dressed in various states of formal wear was Ian, who was wearing black dress pants and a gray golf shirt. He’d be going with them to introduce the new team to the princess, but then he had the rest of the night off. Must be nice to be the boss and make the rules. Two team members were missing, but they still had a few minutes before the briefing was about to start.
Stepping over to their client, Brody greeted the man with a handshake. “It’s been a while, Amar. How are you doing?”
The dark-haired security agent with olive skin was of Malian descent although his family immigrated to the small, neighboring, North African country of Timasur when he was ten. “Good, my friend. It is a delight to be back in Florida for a bit. I like the change in scenery.”
“How’s Her Royal Majesty doing? Better, I hope.”
Queen Azhar had fallen ill with unexplained renal failure earlier in the year, forcing Princess Tahira to cancel a visit to the states with two of her cousins. “Her Highness is doing much better and responding to treatments. From the press release that was issued last week, the doctors are expecting a full recovery. And thank you for asking. I will tell her you were inquiring about her well-being.”
He was about to respond when a chorus of wolf whistles filled the air as a brunette bombshell walked in wearing a female cut tuxedo and Amar’s eyes widened. “Who is that beautiful creature, and why haven’t I met her before?” he asked in a low, but interested voice.
Chuckling, Brody leaned closer. “She can kick your ass and snipe you from a mile out.”
“That just makes her even more attractive,” the man murmured.
Rolling her eyes, Lindsey “Costello” Abbott groaned at the heckling she was getting from the team. Over the past few months, the former Marine sniper had more than proven she deserved to be on the Trident team as much as the men did. While she had been hired to fill the sniper position in place of Jake Donovan, who was putting together a west coast team, she’d been on assignments and training with both teams over the past seven months. She held her own in combat and physical training and had protected their sixes on a few missions already. But clean off her camo grease paint and the woman was a walking hard-on. To fit in with the extravagant venue this evening, her hair was in some fancy updo which kept it out of her way while still being stylish. Add the subtle makeup she wore and her toned yet curvy body, the woman would be turning heads all evening without even trying. Nevertheless, any guy who tried to interrupt her security assignment tonight would be either taken down and talking soprano or peeing his pants when her 9mm was shoved into his face. Underneath the custom-fit black attire was certainly a variety of weapons.
When she approached, Brody introduced her to their client. “Lindsey, this is the head of the royal security detail, Mousaf Amar. Amar, this is our newest sniper, Lindsey Abbott. She’ll be closest to Princess Tahira in case she needs to go to the restroom or anywhere else the men shouldn’t be.”
Smiling, Amar bowed his head slightly in her direction. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Abbott.”
Lindsey responded with her own polite, yet professional smile. “Thank you, Mr. Amar. And it’s my pleasure to meet you as well.”
The last man they were waiting for walked in. Logan “Cowboy” Reese was introduced to Amar, and then Ian called the room to order. “All right. Let’s go over tonight’s detail. Rule number one: I don’t care how much Princess Tahira comes on to you—Abbott, this doesn’t apply to you—keep it in your fucking pants. She’s off-limits. Not only will you be fired, but I will kick your ass from here to Timasur where King Rajeemh will castrate you. Got it? Good.”
An hour later, a caravan of black SUV’s drove through the gate of the royal family’s vacation home; well, with its twenty-nine rooms, “mansion” was a more appropriate word. The team poured out of the vehicles and hurried into the air conditioning to keep from getting drenched in sweat. The temperature had only dropped two degrees to ninety-nine, but the forecast had called for it to fall even further to the high eighties after the sun went down. Still not weather you wanted to be formally dressed in, though.
Amar quickly made the introductions to his own team members, some of whom had been on duty all day and would be off for the next few hours. It was one of the reasons the palace had hired Trident to supplement their security personnel here in Florida.
The sound of high heels on granite tile had everyone looking up to the top of a curved staircase leading to the foyer. Dressed in a stunning, emerald evening gown, Princess Tahira made her grand entrance. The fabric shimmered with her every movement, and her diamond necklace, bracelet, and earrings caught the light as well. Her long black hair was swept up off her neck with a few curls framing her exotic features. Brody noticed several new team members’ eyes widening as the woman floated down the stairs with a regal posture, which was half-nurtured and half-natural. They had seen several photos of the princess earlier at the briefing, but those paled in comparison to the real thing.
As Tahira reached the last step, Ian moved forward, taking her proffered hand. She smiled warmly at him. “Hello, Ian Sawyer.” She had a habit of using a person’s first and last name together. “It’s wonderful to see you again. How is Ms. Angelina doing?”
The princess had met Angie last year when she and Ian had accepted King Rajeemh’s invitation to visit the small, North African country. The two women had hit it off, much to Ian’s surprise. Before that, Ian had been on Tahira’s flirt list, which apparently didn’t extend to men who were in committed relationships. Every other male, however, was fair game, and Brody was sure she would be flirting with him and the rest of the team very shortly. “Very well, Your Highness. She’s been busy with the wedding plans and was thrilled to hear you and Prince Raj will be attending.”
“My brother and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. My parents send their regrets, however. Father doesn’t like to travel so far from home with Mother still recovering.” She turned her attention to Brody, and he bowed his head slightly in respect of her title. “Well, hello, Brody Evans. It’s always a pleasure to have you on my security detail. You look. . .”
Pausing, she tilted her head to the side and stared intently at him. Unsure what she was scrutinizing, Brody glanced down to see if there was
something on his tuxedo. Not noticing anything, his gaze returned to hers. “Is there a problem, Princess Tahira?”
Instead of answering him, she directed her response to Ian. “It appears I’ve lost another one of my favorite American bodyguards to his soul mate.”
Ian’s eyebrows shot up, and Brody was just as startled, if not more. “Um. I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’m not dating anyone.”
A knowing grin spread across her face. “Maybe not yet, but you have met her. I can see it in your eyes and body language, Brody Evans. But you have doubts. Don’t. She will come around soon enough, and I’m happy for you. Sad for me, but very happy for you. Truthfully, I had expected you to be the first one of my Trident men to fall in love. But better late than never, as you Americans say.”
His eyes narrowed in shock and thought as Ian introduced Tahira to the members of the Omega team. Brody knew the woman was a firm believer in soul mates and things being “written in the stars.” She’d known right away when she met Angie that Ian and his fiancée were meant to be together and had told Ian so. But how she knew Brody had met his soul mate was completely lost on him. Yeah, he’d been thinking that maybe Fancy was the one since he’d never before been so attracted to a woman to the point of jealousy at seeing her embrace another man—even if it had been her brother-in-law. However, he didn’t think he looked or acted any differently. At least enough that the princess would notice within thirty seconds of observing him.
One of Amar’s men announced the arrival of the limousine, which the princess would be taking to the gala, just as a dark-haired man dressed in formal wear came hurrying down the stairs. It was Tahira’s cousin, Farid, who was her escort for the evening. Brody didn’t bother greeting the younger man since Farid had made it quite clear on numerous occasions he thought anyone who wasn’t royalty was beneath him. The smug bastard would answer to Amar because he had to, but he just sneered or glared at all the other bodyguards if they spoke to him.
Once they confirmed everyone was ready, and the head of security over at the gala had given the all clear, the group of royals and guards exited the mansion. Ian bid the princess a pleasant evening before leaving in one of the vehicles they’d ridden over in. Brody climbed into the back of the limo with Tahira and Farid, while McCabe rode shotgun with Amar’s guard, who was driving. The others would lead and follow the limo in the SUVs. Settling into the soft, leather seat, the former SEAL sighed. It’s going to be a long, fucking night in this damned monkey suit.
* * *
Pulling the cupcake pans out of the industrial sized oven, Fancy lined them up on the long, butcher block table to cool. It was just after midnight and, once again, she couldn’t sleep, so instead of tossing and turning, she’d come to the bakery to at least be productive during her insomnia. This was the last batch because she needed to try and get some sleep before she had to be back at six thirty in the morning. Maybe she’d leave Sal a note saying she would be in an hour late. They didn’t open until seven on Saturday mornings.
Removing her protective mitts, she turned off the oven. She’d cleaned up for Sal, so all she had to do was cover all the cupcakes, and he could decorate them when he came in. The tarts were already taken care of, and would go out in the display case in the morning. Reaching for the foil and plastic wrap, she froze when she heard a loud knock at the locked front door. While it was bright in the kitchen, the only lights on in the main shop were the red security lamps.
Unsure who the hell would be knocking at the door so late, she grabbed a large knife and her cell phone. Dialing 911, she held her thumb over the “Send” button, ready to hit it if needed. Pushing the swinging door open just enough for her to see out, she was shocked to see Brody Evans standing outside the front entrance, looking in. He knocked louder this time, and Fancy sighed. Leaving the knife on the counter, she hurried through the shop to find out what he wanted. She didn’t realize until she’d entered the new security code then unlocked and opened the door that he was dressed in a tuxedo, sans bowtie, with the top shirt button undone. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
His eyes scanned her body as if assuring himself she was okay. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I was driving home and saw the kitchen light on with your car in the lot. Is everything all right? And what smells so damn good?”
She chuckled. The man hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned his sweet tooth. But you would never know it looking at his hard and sculpted physique. “Cupcakes and raspberry tarts. And, yes, everything is fine. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I come here to bake.”
The relief on his face was evident, but then his eyes narrowed a bit. “By yourself? And why can’t you sleep?”
Shrugging, she made light of it. There was no way she was going to tell him the real reason. “Just occasional insomnia. Can’t shut my mind off some nights. And I keep everything locked, so I’m fine here alone.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but his stomach picked that moment to growl—loudly. His blush made her laugh, and she opened the door wider. “Come on in and I’ll give you some to go.”
After locking the door again behind him, she walked back toward the kitchen with him following. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Where are you coming from all dressed up? You look good in a tux, by the way.” Now what the hell had made her tack that on?
“You like my Sinatra impersonation, huh? We had a security detail at some fancy gala tonight over at the Hilton. A bunch of people showing off how rich they are and making sure everyone knew how much they’re donating to AIDS research.
“Oh my God, it smells even better in here. Woman, where the hell did you learn to bake, and who do I need to thank for teaching you?”
She chuckled. “My Aunt Denise. She still owns a bakery back in Ohio, where I’m originally from. I’ll tell her you said thanks. Do you want a tart or an un-iced cupcake? They won’t be iced until the morning.”
“I can’t have a cupcake without icing, that’s like having a steak without potatoes, so a tart it is. Do you mind if I eat it here? Otherwise, I’ll be drooling the whole ride home unless I put it in the bed of the truck.”
Her chuckle morphed into a belly laugh. “Sure, I don’t mind. One tart coming up.” Pulling a wooden stool over to the counter, she gestured for him to take a seat. She slid one of the individual treats in front of him and handed him a clean fork. “Sorry I don’t have the coffee machine on, but I can offer you a glass of milk.”
“Perfect, thanks.” He took a bite and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Holy cow. This is delicious.”
Fancy smiled and placed a full glass of milk next to his plate. “Glad you like it.”
While she started covering the trays of cupcakes, Brody ate his tart. The silence between them was comfortable, but the awareness her body had at his presence was a little unnerving.
Glancing over, she saw his plate was empty except for a few crumbs. “Want another one?”
“Does the sun rise in the east? Of course, I want another one. What I’d like even more, though, is if you’d join me. Nothing goes better with a sweet treat than an even sweeter woman.”
She laughed as she slid another tart on his plate. “Is that all you know how to do with the opposite sex? Flirt, I mean?”
“Nope. I also know how to treat a woman as if she’s the only one in the world. Just the way my dad taught all his sons.”
After pouring herself a glass of milk and pulling over another stool, she sat next to him. When he held up his fork in question, she shook her head. “I’ll join you, but I’ll pass on the tart. You tend to lose your taste for sweets when you’re around them all the time.”
His eyes grew wide. “Perish the thought.”
“So you’re from a big family?”
He nodded as he swallowed. “Yup. I’m the fourth of six kids. Two older sisters, one younger, and two brothers—one older, one younger. What about you? Any siblings?”
“I have
one older brother who lives in Hawaii, and two half-sisters from my father, but I’ve never met them.”
His eyebrows arched. “Never? How old are they?”
A heavy sigh escaped her. She wished she had the close family most of her friends had, but it hadn’t been meant to be. “Fourteen and sixteen. They live in California with my father. He and my mom were never married, but they did try to make a go of it. It obviously didn’t work out. I haven’t seen him in about fifteen years, but every once in a while I’ll get a card in the mail or he’ll finally get around to answering one of my emails. I wanted to go out to California to meet his wife and my sisters years ago, but he kept putting it off. I get the impression his wife has no desire to meet me, and he abides by it.”
“Sorry to hear that. What about your mom?”
She took a sip of her milk. “She’s still up in Ohio. We weren’t very close growing up because she was always working two jobs. Once I was old enough to take care of myself, she sort of had a midlife crisis. She’s on husband number three right now. I guess she’s trying to make up for being single most of her life.” She gave her head a slight shake. It had always bothered her that her family wasn’t the perfect little family with married parents, a house with a picket fence, and a dog. At least when she met her husband, she’d gotten used to his brother and parents being around a lot. And when she and Patrick moved to Florida, Corey had followed. Her in-laws had remained in Ohio and had planned to retire to nearby Sarasota but when they lost their oldest son, their grief had them staying where they had the most memories of him. “Anyway. I have a few aunts, uncles, and cousins up north, but my Aunt Denise and I have always been the closest. She never married or had kids, so she tried to fill in where my mom was lacking. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My mother worked her ass off for my brother and me, but because of that, we rarely had her to ourselves.” Her eyes widened. “And I can’t believe I just told you all that. You probably want to leave after I dumped all that on you.”
Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) Page 5
