Glen & Tyler's High Seas Hijinks (Glen & Tyler Adventures Book 4)

by JB Sanders

  Tyler walked around the bedroom, poking into luggage and looking in drawers. They were all silent, except for Jeremy, who snored.

  Eventually, Tyler found a feather among the various toys on the night stand and tickled Jeremy’s nose. It took a few tries before Jeremy woke up.

  “What the fuck!” Jeremy sat up abruptly, the light blanket falling away from him. He was very nude.

  Tyler gave him a sardonic look. “Good morning sleepy head.”

  Jeremy pulled the blanket up. “What — how?”

  “Oh please, Jeremy, I’m a billionaire with a world-wide spy organization. And you didn’t ditch your watch.” Tyler pointed at Jeremy’s watch, sitting on the night stand next to the lube.

  “What? I like that watch. Have you low-jacked all my gifts?” Jeremy sent an appealing look at Glen. “Why are you here?”

  Tyler held up a finger. “One, you ditched your security detail during our time of crisis.”

  “When are you ever not in a time of crisis?” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

  “Two,” Tyler glared at Jeremy. “You left the goddamned country.”

  “Oooh, Bermuda.” Jeremy circled a finger. “It’s practically Canada down here.”

  “Three, and this hurts most of all, you have a serious boyfriend — perhaps the first serious relationship you’ve ever had — and you didn’t tell me.”

  Jeremy opened his mouth and then closed it. He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. In a small voice, he said “How did you know?”

  Tyler put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Brother, not only did you run away to be with this guy, but you kept him off our radar so well that we didn’t know about him until we tracked you here.”

  Jeremy blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry, but …”

  “I know, it’s a lot. I’m a lot. But if you love him, we’ll love him.”

  “Look, I know this is going to sound hard, brother, but I need you all to go.” Jeremy looked up at Tyler. “Please.”

  Sharing the Load

  Tyler held his head in his hands. Glen got his hips closer and put an arm across his shoulders.

  “I have an idea,” Glen said quietly.

  “You know how to fix things between me and Jeremy? My brother ran away from me, Glen.” Tyler sounded close to tears. “He doesn’t even want me to meet his boyfriend.”

  “Look, we’ve got this thing with the spy guys, right?”

  Tyler looked up in confusion. “What? I don’t care about that anymore.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re just letting this thing with Jeremy blot out everything else.” Glen pulled Tyler around to face him and put his hands on either side of Tyler’s face. “Listen to me. I’ll take care of Jeremy, you handle the international crime gangs espionage thing.”

  “How are you going to take care of Jeremy?”

  “The same way I did the last time, only with a lot less nudity.”

  Tyler’s mouth quirked up slightly. “I’d appreciate that.” Tyler sniffed. “What are you going to do?”

  Glen didn’t hesitate. “I’m going to find out all about the mysterious boyfriend, why specifically Jeremy didn’t want to introduce him to us, and repair things between the two of you.”

  “Just like that?” Tyler had an edge of sarcasm in his voice, but it sounded like he believed Glen could do it.

  “Yes, just like that. I have a Master’s degree in Conrad men and their crazy ways.”

  Tyler smiled, despite his pain, and then hugged Glen tightly. “Thank you.”

  “Any time, husband. Any time.”

  ***

  They sat in the ship’s dining room. It was a little cramped for ten people, but it had the singular advantage of having the most space of anywhere on the ship. Outside of having the meeting on deck, that is.

  Tyler had cleaned up a little, scrubbed his face and put on his best corporate lion suit. Only someone who knew him very well would know how much of a strain he was under.

  “Ok, people, we have a plan of attack. As I see it, we have two major operations to tackle, so Glen and I are splitting up.”

  Everyone looked shocked.

  Glen rolled his eyes. “Phrasing.”

  Tyler grinned sheepishly. “Uh, I mean, we’re each taking on one of the problems individually.”

  James impassive face creased slightly. “Splitting the security detail is going to be risky. We’re already at high alert. Operating on two fronts is … not a good idea.”

  “I know, James, but I need to work on something complicated to keep my mind off my troubles and Glen is probably the only one who can solve my Jeremy problem.”

  “So you’re going to work on the missing spy and Glen’s going to figure out what the hell is up with Jeremy?” Tim tapped the table with one hand. “I assume this won’t be a repeat of Paris?”

  Glen snorted. “For one thing, I won’t be chasing my tail to distract anyone.”

  Tyler whispered for the whole table to hear. “I’m still sorry about that.”

  “For another,” Glen said, grinning at Tyler. “I’ll be using Excalibur, Tim and Rosa. Tyler will get James, Genevieve, Tucker, and whatever Excalibur is leftover after the Jeremy thing is handled.”

  Tim looked surprised. “The thing with Jeremy is taking precedence over the job from —“

  Tyler coughed.

  “—The Very Important Friend?” Tim finished.

  “For now, yes.” Tyler sounded final. “This isn’t just about me and my brother falling out, it’s also about a total stranger with whom Jeremy has apparently shacked up — at about the same time that this Caribbean thing fell in our laps, and right around the time I pissed off five super-rich sociopaths. Safety first.”

  Tim and James nodded.

  Genevieve looked confused. “I know I’m new here, but how exactly can I contribute to a … what exactly are you doing, Tyler?”

  “There’s an agent of the US government implanted as a mole in one of two organized crime groups in this area. The US has lost touch with him, they don’t know which group he infiltrated, and they think that his life is in danger.”

  “And how can I help with that?” She looked confused, though Glen wasn’t convinced.

  Tyler leaned towards her slightly. “The outsider perspective. I’m distracted enough as it is, and we could use a second opinion. Not that James wouldn’t tell me I’m being an idiot if the situation demanded it—“

  James snorted.

  “—But after years working together, we’ve gotten into some bad habits. We think spies for everything. I’m trusting you to suggest non-spy stuff when you think we’re being thick. Plus, you know.” Tyler waved a hand.

  Genevieve raised her eyebrows. “You know?”

  Tyler sighed. “If it comes right down to it, my end of this two-headed operation is the one more likely to result in someone getting shot, and it’d be nice to have a trauma doctor around.”

  Genevieve nodded. “Right, count me in, then.”

  “Thanks.” Tyler clicked a button on a remote, and the large TV lit up. “Right, here’s what we’re facing…”

  How to Mediate Conflict

  This is a Spa, Right?

  “Undercover is just not going to work for this. I mean, if talented CIA agents are doing this after years of study and what not, we shouldn’t bother. No, what this calls for is for me to be obnoxiously me.”

  Glen’s lip quirked up one side of his face despite himself. He was desperately trying to suppress a smirk.

  Tyler narrowed his eyes at Glen. “What? Just spit it out.”

  Glen grinned in earnest. “Obnoxiously you??”

  “As if there could be an alternative version,” Tim muttered.

  “I heard that!”

  “So what’s your first move?” Glen put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, which paused what was likely to be a long, half-joking rant.

  “I go and be Tyler Conrad, well-known billionaire playboy, and casually run into these guys wher
ever they like to hang out.” Tyler leaned back. “Tim, where do these guys like to hang out?”

  “From what we can tell, LeMans likes to gamble, and Vedrasse is a health nut.”

  “Ok, line up the high-roller’s gambling establishment on the island, that’s almost certainly where a rich criminal would go. What in Bermuda says ‘health nut’ to you? Are we going to have to take up jogging again?”

  “Not after that ‘let’s jog on the moors’ idea.” Tim made a sour face.

  Tyler threw up his hands. “Look, I know, it was a horrible idea. I really did think that was a path that went all the way through, and not to the nearest bog. I’m sorry, again.”

  “You didn’t stink of peat moss for a week.”

  Glen gave Tim a significant look over Tyler’s shoulder. Tim nodded and shut up about the bogs.

  James typed away for a few moments on his laptop. “There are several world-class spas in Bermuda. We should be able to find the New Age one and bump into him between colonics.” James said it with a straight face, but Glen had known the man long enough that he could tell when he was joking.

  Tyler grinned. “And there’s an image. I so totally want to bond with a drug smuggler over irrigating my nether regions.”

  Glen and Tim laughed. James nodded.

  Tim looked thoughtful. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea — I mean, running into him at a spa. That’s a pretty likely rich-guy thing to do if you want to be healthy — massage, meditation, all that stuff.”

  “Ok, sounds like I’ll be spending the day at a spa. What are you doing?” Tyler smiled at Glen, and then took a sip of his orange juice.

  “Trying to seduce a guy.”

  Tyler spewed his juice over half the table.

  “What the hell?” Tyler said, dribbling the last of the fresh-squeezed juice.

  Glen smiled broadly, and pointed at Tyler. “Got you to spew.” Glen gave Tyler a warm squeeze on this thigh. “Seriously though, I’m going to find Jeremy’s new boyfriend, and then see what happens when I flirt with him.”

  Tyler cleaned his face off with a cloth napkin, nodding. “You’re going to do to Jeremy’s boyfriend what Jeremy did to all my girlfriends? That’s sweet, right there. Just, ah … no actual seducing, ok?”

  Glen shook his head. “No way. First of all, I’m a one-guy man.” Glen leaned over and kissed Tyler soundly. “Second, I’ve seen this guy — not up close, but through binoculars — and he doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Oh, well, if he’s ugly…” Tyler grinned.

  ***

  Tyler could tell right away that the spa was super high-class. When he walked into the place with two big burly guys on either side and two more trailing along behind, the cute guy behind the desk didn’t even bat an eyelash. The man was sculpted from some kind of exquisite mahogany, his skin glowing with health, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and he had these cinnamon eyes that … well, it was a good thing he had Glen, because this guy made him want to write poetry. Tyler reminded himself, with a little half-smile at the thought of writing Glen sonnets, that he wrote poetry for one guy, and it wasn’t Mr. Amazing here.

  “Good morning, sir, how may I help you?”

  Crap, Tyler thought, even his voice was awesome. It felt like the guy was doing R-rated things with Tyler’s ears every time he spoke, and it really didn’t help that he had a lilting sort of English-like accent. Bermuda accent?

  Tyler cleared his throat. “Hi! I’d like to do the spa thing.”

  The man didn’t even blink at this. “Of course, sir. Did you have any particular treatment in mind? Would you like a massage, a mud wrap, manicure, pedicure, facial peel, hot wax hair removal, or perhaps you would like to spend some time with one of our realization specialists?”

  Tyler blinked. He tried to focus on what the guy said, rather than his melodic voice, and manfully resisted the urge to ask Friendly Counter Guy if he had a personal hourly rate. “Uh, why don’t we put me down for the full package, massage, steam room, hands, feet, facial peel, but we can skip the torture devices in wax form.”

  The nice man smiled at him. “Of course, sir. Are you a member?”

  “No, but I can play one on TV.” Tyler made a beckoning gesture at someone vaguely behind him. James handed forward The Credit Card. “This should cover my membership fee, today’s expenses, and your hefty tip.”

  Tyler handed Friendly Counter Guy the all-steel credit card, chased in silver, that usually made retail folks swoon. FCG just nodded at him, tapped quickly at a discreet computer below the reception desk, and then handed back the card, his expression still just politely helpful.

  “If you’d go through that door, Stefano will be your guide today, and he’ll see to it that anything you need is taken care of immediately. I hope your stay is healthful and relaxing.”

  “Thanks.” Tyler winked at Hot Friendly Counter Guy, he just couldn’t help himself.

  ***

  No matter how many spa massages Tyler had, he didn’t think he’d ever really get used to some strange guy — and generally a very well-muscled guy — putting his hands nearly everywhere on his naked body. He’d have to ask Glen about it later. Maybe it was a hangup from his childhood or some Freudian crap like that. He certainly had enough trauma from when he was a kid to fuel an entire psychiatric practice.

  On the plus side, once the guy got to the part with the hot oil and intense kneading, Tyler’s thoughts pretty much melted away. Unfortunately, it turned out modern spas weren’t quite like the Bond movies — massages were no longer conducted many-to-a-room. Everyone had a nice quiet, private space, their own masseuse or masseur, and soft New Age music playing in the background.

  So there was no running into people in the change room, also private, and no casual conversation while Boris kneaded you like pretzel dough.

  But hey — Tyler had finally gotten rid of that kink in his neck he’d had since Jeremy had vanished and then turned him away.

  That was something.

  ***

  Tyler felt completely relaxed, if a bit raw, as he sat and sipped a mojito in the casual eatery inside the spa’s bamboo garden. The place was open to the sky but shaded by the nearly jungle-dense potted bamboo plants everywhere.

  His security boys hung around, about as inconspicuous as a herd of water buffalo and looking twice as dangerous. There were a few other rich fat cats in the cafe but not anywhere near them and none of the cats was Vedrasse. Tyler had begun to think this whole trip was a bust, at least when it came to cozying up to bad guys — on the upside, his manicure looked fantastic.

  Across the room, two beefy guys in casual beach wear came into the room and looked around. Tyler’s own football team took notice of them, but didn’t do anything action-oriented, like tackling them to the ground or shooting up the place. The beach wear guys left half a minute later and then came back in with another guy in tow.

  This was Vedrasse.

  He wound through the bamboo alcoves and settled on a table not far from where Tyler sat.

  Tyler turned over the possibilities. If they were in a high-class restaurant, he’d send over a bottle of champagne. If they were in a bar, he’d send over a bottle of Scotch, or maybe Bourbon. What the hell did you send to a guy to get his attention in a spa? A smoothie? Tyler drummed his fingers in thought, watching the man.

  Then Tyler realized something.

  He stood up, looked at James, pointed over at Vedrasse’s table, and slowly walked over.

  Tyler got nearish the table, and then one of the goons stepped in the way. Tyler looked up at the guy and idly sipped from his mojito. Tyler didn’t say a word.

  “Sorry, this table is private,” growled the guy.

  Tyler didn’t say a word, and took another sip. Vedrasse finally looked over at him, then away, and then back again quickly.

  “Let him through.” Vedrasse motioned Tyler forward.

  Tyler sat down, and nodded. “Mr. Vedrasse. How’s life?”

 
Vedrasse regarded Tyler for a full minute. The man must be a demon at poker because Tyler had no idea what he was thinking.

  “I am very well, Mr. Conrad, or at least I was a moment ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Well, I happened to be doing the spa thing today, saw you, and thought I should stop by and say hi.” Tyler paused a beat. “Hi.”

  In the silence while Vedrasse digested this statement, Tyler sipped his mojito again.

  “I find that very hard to believe, Mr. Conrad. Your reputation is, now, very well known. Not only what the Russians say about you, which is troubling enough, but now this thing in Paris.” Vedrasse shook his head. “You don’t casually run into anyone. What can I do for you? Or is something about to happen to me?”

  Tyler smiled, using the specific brand of the expression he knew was not comforting or endearing to those who saw it. “Well said, Mr. Vedrasse. I am, in fact, here to see you. As to why? I have been asked by a friend to intercede in this little … unpleasantness between you and Mr. LeMans.”

  Vedrasse leaned back in his chair. Tyler didn’t think the man had relaxed, that wouldn’t happen in his presence but what Tyler had said made the guy think.

  Vedrasse nodded. “Very well. You are here to broker a peace between business rivals and we have obviously let our … problems bother someone up our food chain. Someone who can call on you for a favor.” Vedrasse contemplated this, then made a gesture. “So, how do you intend to start?”

  “I’m meeting the parties involved, in places they find comfortable and attempting to get to know them.” Tyler looked around at the eatery, bathed in patches of bright yellow and dim green light. “This is nice.”

  “It is the best spa on the islands of Bermuda.”

  Tyler nodded. “So what would it take to get you two to lay off?”

  Vedrasse snorted. “Other than the head of LeMans on my dinner plate?”

  “Yeah, other than outright murder on either side.” Tyler made a dismissive gesture. “That’s messy.”