by Misty Evans
Another sheepish smile from Connor and Jaya huffed under her breath. She caught up just as the woman stepped into the elevator.
The ride up was done in complete silence, except for Sloane’s squeals and giggles. She kept sneaking shy glances, making Jaya smile. An ache bloomed in her chest, her mind envisioning what her and Jon’s baby might look like. Her fingers itched to reach out and offer to hold her.
Jaya finally broke the silence. “How old is she?”
“Seven months,” Beatrice replied, kissing the baby’s forehead. “Hard for me to believe.”
A bevy of questions tickled Jaya’s lips. What was it like being a working mother? Did Beatrice and Cal want more children? How did she balance being in charge of a growing business and family?
Each of the questions threatened to come forth, but they were all too personal. Jaya held her tongue.
The elevator dinged and she followed Beatrice down another hall to an office located at the back of the floor. Before they reached the door, a man in a wheelchair emerged from a side hallway and hailed them.
“The latest updates are on your desk,” he said to Beatrice while eyeing Jaya. “Team Omega landed at 0430. They’ll be in for debriefing within the hour.”
“Thank you, Rory.” Beatrice held her fingers to a security pad next to the door and Jaya heard a soft beep and the sound of the lock opening. Lights automatically came on as they entered.
Inside was a spacious, inviting room that looked nothing like a typical office. The walls were a soft celery green. A fireplace sprang to life when Beatrice hit a button on her large mahogany desk, a beautiful serene mountain scene hanging above the mantel. A couple framed pictures of the baby, a salt lamp, and a framed Purple Star sat on the mantel.
“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s reaction to you,” Beatrice said, shoving a laptop, stack of files, and an expensive Mont Blanc pen aside to set her briefcase on. “When Sloane was born, we had an unfortunate incident with a criminal who tried to kill us. Cal’s protective instincts have always been strong, but now they’re more fervent.”
Jaya unbuttoned her coat and watched as Beatrice lovingly removed Sloane’s. “Protecting the ones you love is automatic. I don’t much like having a gun pointed at me, but under the circumstances—the way I came out of nowhere at this time of the morning—it’s understandable.”
Two cushy, modern chairs sat across from the desk. The other half of the room was set up like a nursery—crib, toy chest, books, and a brightly colored, soft-looking rug on the floor, lined with pillows and stuffed animals. The Reeses had certainly found a way to merge work and family life.
Could I do the same?
All her life, people had told Jaya she would never amount to much. That she was a loser, a stray, a misfit. So far, she’d done a hell of a job proving them wrong. She had no idea how to be a good parent, but that wasn’t about to stop her from trying.
If need be.
“Have a seat,” Beatrice said, putting Sloane on her belly on the rug and giving her several toys. Immediately, a teething ring in the shape of a penguin went into Sloane’s mouth and she kicked her feet. She seemed right at home and Jaya could see her in twenty-five years or so, running the place herself. “She’s teething,” Beatrice added, stroking the little girl’s pale blond locks.
Jaya took off her coat, placing it on one of the chairs and sitting in the other. “It must be challenging running an elite security agency like this and taking care of your baby at the same time.”
Beatrice hung her own coat on a hook and went to the credenza behind the desk. “I didn’t expect the two to mix well, but it actually came about quite easily. I have a lot of help from the guys.”
Shelby had told Jaya that all the men who worked for Rock Star Security were considered family to Cal, Beatrice, and Emit Petit, the man who’d started it all. Cal and Beatrice had even named their baby after several of the men who’d gone above and beyond to help them out.
A tray with two carafes, coffee cups, fruit, and energy bars offered up breakfast. Connor knew his boss’s routine and must have prepared everything for her arrival. Beatrice snagged a grape, popping it into her mouth as she poured a cup of coffee. Then she took a tea bag from her desk and made up a cup of tea as well.
She must need a lot of caffeine this early in the morning.
Since Jaya normally ran on all-natural, organic energy drinks, she didn’t judge, but couldn’t help wishing she had one right now. Her stomach, doing its see-saw impression, now felt empty, probably because it was. She had the strongest urge to eat a couple of those bars and then crawl over to Sloane’s rug and take a nap.
When Beatrice came around the desk and handed the tea to Jaya, Jaya looked up at her surprised.
“It’s non-caffeinated,” Beatrice said. “Ginger-mint. Good for the stomach.”
Jaya’s cheeks heated. She accepted the cup, enjoying the warmth on her fingers. “I seem to have picked up that stomach virus going around.”
Beatrice made no comment, returning to her chair and her own cup of warmth. She eyed Jaya over the rim. “Jon will be back in town today and I will pass on the message that you have an emergency requiring his attention, but I cannot guarantee he will respond.”
He would be back today. Jaya felt a sudden rush of relief. “You’re sure he’s okay? It’s odd for him not to return my texts or answer my calls.”
“His job requires discretion and he’s not always available to family or friends when on assignment. He also may decide to go off-grid for personal reasons. You do understand that, right?”
She knew his job often involved sensitive clients. She also had no trouble deciphering the underlying message in Beatrice’s tone. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you. “I assure you the matter at hand is critical and I’m not just some passing girlfriend he dumped who is trying to get him back. We were together, in fact, when you called about this assignment with the singer. After he left, something came to my attention and I need to…”
Beatrice’s phone buzzed, interrupting. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”
Jaya stood and reached for her coat, but Beatrice said, “Don’t go yet,” before she answered the phone, waving Jaya to sit down.
The baby squealed and fretted, so Jaya went to sit by Sloane, giving Beatrice some privacy. The little girl had tossed the penguin aside and was now gumming a plastic puppy’s ear to death.
“Yes, Connor,” Beatrice said.
Sloane squealed as Jaya picked up a soft, stuffed doll with crazy red hair and drawn-on eyes. The baby seemed enraptured by the thing so Jaya made it do a little dance and Sloane let loose an excited laugh, making Jaya smile.
Beatrice sipped her coffee. “That’s all right. I’ll talk to them. Thanks, Connor.”
She had no more hung up the phone than a knock sounded on the door. “B, it’s me. Savanna. I have a crisis!”
The door swung open before Beatrice could tell the woman to come in, and Jaya’s mouth fell open.
Savanna Bunkett, the investigative reporter of the famous TV news show, The Bunk Stops Here, marched into the office with another woman on her heels.
Savanna Bunkett looked model-gorgeous as always in a deep purple trench coat and black Louboutins, but the stress around her eyes and mouth said she was freaking out. The other woman, who looked a lot like Savanna without makeup, and who wore a sensible puff coat and riding boots, chewed her bottom lip, but otherwise seemed unruffled by the drama.
The reporter didn’t look Jaya’s way, but the other woman did, smiling at Jaya and Sloane. “Hi,” she said, walking over to the rug. “I’m Parker. Are you the new nanny?”
Parker had a nice smile and kind eyes. Jaya took her proffered hand and shook it. “No, I’m…” She couldn’t present herself as Jon’s girlfriend exactly. “I’m Jaya O’Sullivan.”
She decided to leave it at that.
“It’s my stylist!” Savanna seemed completely oblivious to Jaya, pacing in front of Beatric
e’s desk. “Tylee broke both her wrists in a skiing accident. Can you believe it? Both wrists! She can’t do the hair or makeup for the wedding, and it’s too late to get anyone else booked. What am I going to do?”
Parker unzipped her coat and sat down on the rug, making cooing noises at Sloane. “My sister’s getting married on Saturday,” she whispered. “I’m maid of honor and Beatrice is a bridesmaid.”
Beatrice, as unperturbed as Parker, got Savanna a cup of coffee from the credenza. “I’m sure we can find someone to do yours and each of us can do our own.”
Savanna accepted the cup and plunked down into the chair Jaya had vacated. “No, no, no. I’m marrying the man of my dreams—Mr. Perfect! This is my fairy tale wedding. The hairstyle I picked out is intricate and detailed, and the bridesmaid style is similar!” She put her forehead in one hand. “I can’t believe this. I wanted to look beautiful for Trace.”
“You’re innately beautiful, Van,” Parker said. “Trace wouldn’t care if you showed up with bedhead dressed in a T-shirt. In fact, he’d probably like that better.”
Savanna flipped around to glare at her sister. “He’s going to be in uniform, Parker! Have you seen him in his Navy whi—” She frowned at Jaya, seeming to notice her for the first time. “Oh, hi. Are you the new nanny?”
Jaya drew in a patient breath. “No, I’m Jaya. Just a…friend of one of the guys.”
“Your Shelby’s friend!” Savanna seemed to shift gears from diva to regular person. She stood and hustled over, hand out. “I’m Savanna. Nice to meet you. Shelby told us about what happened in Good Hope and how much it meant to her for you to come back to DC and support Jon.”
Savanna Bunkett knew who she was? “I, uh, was happy to help out.”
Parker nudged her with an elbow and winked. “I bet it was real difficult to nurse Jon back to health.”
Beatrice cleared her throat. “I will make a few calls, Savanna, and see what I can do. Meanwhile, don’t you need to get to the studio?”
“I just left there.” Savanna returned to the desk, rubbing her temple. “The Kensington assassination coverage has been going nonstop and the network is short on reporters. I’m going home for a couple hours of rest before I head back. Is Trace home yet?”
“The team landed a few hours ago. He’s probably there waiting for you.”
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” Savanna’s voice held a tinge of panic again. “I hate to be such a drama queen, but I had everything planned out. It was going to be such a perfect day, and now this.”
Jaya got to her feet. The first time she’d done a friend’s hair and makeup, she’d been the ripe age of ten. Shelby had been preparing for the Miss Oklahoma Youth America beauty pageant and her stylist had made her look like her mother. Shelby had been in tears and Jaya had taken a brush and can of hairspray and redone the elaborate beehive into something that matched Shelby’s spunky personality. She’d also switched out the deep red lipstick on Shelby’s lips for a raspberry pink. All in all, Shelby went from being her mother’s look-alike to a fifties glam girl. Her mother had hated it, but guess who’d won that night and went on to win many, many more pageants?
That’s when Jaya had known what she was meant to do with her life. It was her mission to make women feel beautiful and confident. “I can do your hair and makeup,” she found herself volunteering.
All three women looked at her as if she’d just morphed into an alien. “You?” Savanna said.
“Not sure how much Shelby told you about me, but I own Cherry Bomb Skincare.” Jaya pulled out her phone and found her folder of pictures labeled Weddings. She held it out to Savanna. “I have a spa in Good Hope, and we do the works—nails, hair, makeup. Beauty pageant queens, like Shelby used to be, come to us from all over to brand their look, and weddings are a huge chunk of my business.”
Parker and Beatrice crowded around Savanna as she flipped through the pictures on the phone. Parker oohed and ahhed and Beatrice nodded her head as if putting her stamp of approval on Jaya.
Savanna looked up and handed the phone back. “You’re hired,” she said.
The door flew open and Jaya turned to see a surprised Jon pull up short.
The aftereffects of any mission left Jon a bit out of synch with the real world. Walking into Beatrice’s office and seeing Jaya standing there made that intensify a hundred percent.
“Jaya?” He scratched the back of his head. His hair was still wet from a shower and hung loose, the ends grazing his shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
“Trace!” Savanna flew across the room, edging past Jon to throw her arms around Hunter who stood behind him.
Everyone else looked at Jaya and she stammered a bit before she threw back her shoulders and met Jon’s gaze head-on. “I’m helping Savanna with the wedding.”
Not many things could leave Jon with his yap hanging open. This, however, might be one of them.
He shook his head, hoping to clear his confusion. “You’re what?”
Hunter, his fiancée still in his arms, pushed Jon all the way into the room. “You are?”
And then like a bad comedy skit, Bells busted in, stopped in his tracks, and looked horror-struck. “Please, God, no.”
To add to the skit, Sloane, off to the side, laughed like a well-timed soundtrack.
Beatrice walked to her office chair and wheeled it out. “Ladies, would you mind continuing this discussion downstairs? I need to speak to Jon and the others alone.”
Savanna kissed Hunter. There was a flutter of grabbing coats and leaving behind coffee mugs as Jaya scooted past Jon with a quick glance before darting out the door with Savanna and Parker.
She looked…tired. And nervous. She hadn’t been feeling well when he’d left her, but…
The door shut with a solid click and silence descended. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “What’s going on with them?”
Beatrice sipped from her mug and sat. “Like Ms. O’Sullivan stated, she’s helping Savanna with the wedding. Hair and makeup. You can get the details after we’re done.”
Jon’s boots were glued to the plush carpeting. Part of him wanted to run down and hug Jaya right now, regardless of why she’d ended up here. Another knew that was a very bad idea. “How did that happen?”
Bells plunked into one of the chairs while Hunter went over to pick up Sloane. Colton made prayer hands at Beatrice. “For the love of all that’s holy, you cannot let Jaya help with the wedding.”
“That is not my call, Mr. Bells.” Beatrice opened her laptop then shuffled a couple of folders. “Update me on the mission. Everything went okay once you returned the Suttons to New York?”
Everything had not gone okay, exactly. Jon took the seat next to Bells. “The FBI was not happy about our involvement. I explained that we’d been hired by Sutton Enterprises’ Board of Directors and had effectively done what they had not.”
Bells snorted. “The lead agent on the case, what was his name? Mullins? He didn’t like us showing him up.”
Beatrice looked up with an arched eyebrow at Jon. “Am I going to be getting a call from the FBI director, the Justice Department, or the president?”
The need for discretion and playing nice with official law enforcement was a top priority lately with Beatrice. She’d drilled that need into all of them over and over. “No, ma’am,” Jon said. “All is well. The Suttons were very grateful and smoothed things over with ASAC Mullins and his team.”
Hunter paced slowly, bouncing Sloane as he walked. “Mullins gave Jon a lot of shit—it seemed almost personal to him—but Jon handled it like a pro. I guess previously consulting for the FBI might have helped.”
Actually, that was the reason Mullins had been such as ass, but whatever. Jon didn’t give a flying fuck what that guy thought. “The Suttons were receiving medical care when we left to fly home. Both were bruised and dehydrated when we rescued them. We administered fluids, cleaned several minor wounds, and they were both feeling much better by t
he time we landed in New York. I checked on them right before I got here and they had been to the hospital where they were checked over, given additional fluids, and released about an hour ago.”
“And the three men who kidnapped them?” Beatrice typed something on her keyboard. “Are they in custody?”
Sloane played patty-cake on Hunter’s face. The super soldier looked like he was in heaven. “We incapacitated all three men, boss, and then while Colton and Jon took care of the Suttons, I made sure the kidnappers wouldn’t go anywhere until the Federales arrived. The three are in custody, although two are receiving medical attention.”
“For?” Beatrice asked.
“Gunshot wounds,” Bells gleefully offered up.
“Superficial ones,” Jon hurried to add. “But I wanted to make sure they understood that if we ever have to return to their stomping grounds to rescue American citizens from them in the future, the next time they won’t be so lucky.”
Beatrice gave a slight nod, agreeing with his methods. “And Fleetwood? How did she do?”
The dog had been christened Nicks by Jon’s mom when she’d rescued her from the streets. Stevie Nicks was one of Violet’s favorite singers. Upon arriving at Rock Star Security, Nicks received the codename Fleetwood. Jon had tweaked the spelling of her name, changing it to Nyx, since his was Nickleback, which on reports he often shortened to Nicks. Most of the guys referred to the dog as Princess Nyx because she could be quite demanding when it came to wanting attention.
“She nailed it.” Jon smiled, remembering the dog’s astute nose and senses. “The assholes weren’t too hard to track, but I let her take the lead and she caught the scent of our kidnap victims the moment we hit their last known whereabouts. They’d been hiding near a mangrove, watching for a Mexican Sheartail, when they were kidnapped. We found Natalie’s camera under some bushes and Nyx picked up the scent from there.”
“Good.” Beatrice made a note on her laptop, then handed Jon a sheet of paper. “Let’s start the certification process and continue her training. Here’s the list of upcoming dates in our area. Get yourselves scheduled for as many as you believe are necessary.”
