Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  “None of that,” Cheyanne smiled. “I have overtaxed you. This whole thing must have you so exhausted.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Of course, you are. You are so well built for heavy labor. But I’m still concerned. I insist that you take some time to care for your own wellbeing.”

  Gwen met the woman’s gaze, waiting for whatever she had planned next. She looked far too smug not to be holding a trump card. But Cheyanne only smiled. Apparently, she really wanted Gwen to guess.

  “I’ll get a good rest tomorrow night.”

  “Why wait till then? Take tonight off.”

  “I’m working the party tonight.”

  Cheyanne’s smile took on a venomous edge. “I no longer need your services.”

  “Is that so?”

  Both women snapped around to the sudden addition of a Lithuanian accent. Mads stalked across the snow toward them, his hands deep in the pockets of his full-length coat.

  He looked a lot better off than the last time Gwen had seen him. Clean shaven and presentable, he now possessed a regal air that made Cheyanne look like a pretender to the throne.

  “That is delightful to hear.” He smiled.

  “This is a private conversation,” Cheyanne said sharply. “Perhaps you should go look for your boss.”

  “Willow is not my employer, but I believe we have already had this conversation.”

  “Oh, that’s right. How forgetful of me, Mr.…” she made a show of trying to remember. “I’m sorry. It’s completely slipped my mind.”

  Gwen had thought that Cheyanne had perfected her manner of showing anger while still looking pretty. But Mads made it look like an art form. He wielded the ability with enough strength to make Cheyanne’s mask falter.

  “Latvis,” he prompted. “But if it does prove difficult to remember, I have no objections to you using my title.”

  “Title? You’d like me to call you CEO?”

  “No, of course not,” Mads smiled. “Count will be enough.”

  “You’re a count?” Gwen asked when Cheyanne was struck silent.

  For someone like Cheyanne who valued reputation over all, it must have been taking a lot to think through whether Mads had the ability to hurt her.

  “Did Jamie not mention it? I cannot imagine it would not have come up during your conversations. He has spoken quite highly of you, Gwen.”

  Gwen blushed, the sensation not helped by Cheyanne’s scowl.

  “I was hoping that we might have a moment to speak during my stay, and it seems that you now have a free evening. May I request an hour of your time?”

  “What for?” Gwen asked, before she could stop herself.

  “I merely want to get to know you better.”

  This time, Cheyanne beat her to the question. “Why?”

  “Nothing untoward, I assure you. Jamie would have numerous protests against such an action,” he chuckled, and Gwen’s blush increased. “But I do not wish to intrude any longer. I spotted a coffee shop in town. Will you meet me there?”

  “Sure. Half an hour?”

  “That will do just fine.” He nodded politely, turned on his heel, and stalked away from the two stunned women.

  ***

  Jamie had settled into a steady state of frustration. The day had passed, the sun had set, and he hadn’t been able to get eyes on Gwen once. As his frustration grew, he couldn’t deny that it had to mean something, this need to see her. Not even Cheyanne had stuck in his head like this.

  Sure, he had wanted to see her, mulled over how attractive she was, and let his thoughts roam. But he had never had a bad day just because he hadn’t gotten to talk to her. His head had never filled with the millions of questions he wanted to ask her. He had never wanted to tell her his more embarrassing stories, let alone mentally prepared his delivery.

  After hours of looking for her while straining to be subtle, he had decided to just wait for the party tonight. Gwen was working it, which meant that he knew exactly where she would be, and would get to see that uniform again. Seemed like a win-win. The only problem was that he was horrible at being patient. Even years of strenuous training hadn’t been enough to knock that out of him. So Jamie now sat on the standard-issue couch in his cabin and glared at the far wall, just waiting for the clock to run down.

  A sharp knock distracted him from his newfound hatred of off-white paint and whatever the hell show the TV had switched to.

  “It’s open!”

  He flopped the back of his head onto the couch as footsteps drew nearer. For once, he couldn’t tell who it was by the stride, but couldn’t be bothered to turn and see.

  “What are you watching?”

  He snapped around at the voice, a smile instantly rising on his face.

  “Gwen,” he beamed. “Pull up a sofa cushion.”

  He fell a little bit harder for her when she jumped the back of the couch, her eyes on the TV.

  “The Simpsons?” she asked.

  “I haven’t been paying attention.” He passed her the remote. “You can change it if you want.”

  “It’s fine.”

  As he studied Gwen’s profile, Jamie couldn’t quite decide what conversation he wanted to start first. Silence lingered in the room, broken only by the soft chatter of the TV. Gwen propped her feet up on the coffee table and gave the show her attention for a little while, snow from her boots dripping onto the cheap wood.

  “So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”

  “I’ve got the night off.”

  “Really?” Jamie’s day suddenly looked a lot better. “You hungry? We can order something in.”

  “Sure. Pizza?”

  Jamie rested his arms along the back of the couch. “Any chance I can talk you into Chinese? After yesterday, I’ve kind of hit my calorie quota.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he swiped a hand down along his torso.

  “Hey, it takes work to live up to the extreme standards of health demanded by the United States Navy. This isn’t just a happy accident.”

  “Chinese, but we also get spring rolls,” she negotiated.

  “Agreed.”

  Neither could hold back their smirks as they shook hands on the deal. Gwen had the number for the only Chinese restaurant in town saved in her phone and quickly made the call. Her eyes were still on the TV when she hung up.

  “It’ll be ready in forty-five. With this snow, we should leave in twenty.”

  “Leave?”

  “No one delivers here.”

  “You’re kidding me,” he sighed. “And here I thought I would be spending the night in my sweats.”

  “You can if you want. I was going to swing by and grab my sweatpants on the way out.”

  Jamie smiled. “What color are your sweatpants?”

  “Grey.”

  “Do you wear a matching shirt or a singlet?”

  Gwen finally turned to look at him. “Why do you ask that question so lecherously?”

  “Because the idea of you in chill-out gear makes me feel a little lecherous.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it’s surprising me, too, but I’m rolling with it.”

  Gwen’s face flushed as she tried to keep in her laughter. Eventually, she let it slip out and quickly turned her face away.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I also love the idea of you in lace panties and those heels from last night. That’s a little more conventional.”

  That earned him a solid, but not painful, thump against his arm. He still reeled back from the punch, gripping his arm dramatically.

  “Is it wrong that that turned me on, too?”

  Gwen’s whole face was red, and she was trying her best to hide behind the limited shelter of her long bangs. “Shut up.”

  Jamie laughed and let his arms spread out once more over the back of the sofa. Gwen didn’t take the invitation to curl into his side, but she didn’t
shy away either, so he figured it was a win of sorts. He watched her closely, his brow furrowing as she painfully avoided looking back at him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She tensed.

  “It’s pretty obvious something’s eating at you. Come on, out with it.”

  “Did you tell Mads to talk to me today?”

  Jamie paused for a moment. He had known that Mads would go after his dilemma with a bit of enthusiasm, but he had thought he’d have enough time to warn Gwen first.

  “Sorry about that,” he smiled.

  “You did?” she snarled.

  Jamie stammered under her sudden anger. “Well, you know how Mads was having some problems this morning? I figured a mission would do him some good, so I gave him one. Namely you.”

  Her head snapped around to face him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

  “It was a stupid little thing.” He hastened his words, not sure if he was digging himself out or just getting deeper. “I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s kind of childish, but not the worst thing.”

  “Childish?” Her brow furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes on him, “What exactly did you do?”

  “I told him that I liked you, and tasked him with finding out if you liked me back.”

  “Oh.” All of her anger seemed to seep out on that single sound, and she deflated back against the sofa. “He didn’t ask about that. Not directly.”

  It seemed like she wanted that to be the end of the conversation, but Jamie wasn’t about to let it go. “What did you talk about?”

  “Hm?”

  “You and Mads?”

  “Oh,” she said dismissively. “He offered me a job.”

  Jamie turned around like he had just been hit with a live wire. “What?”

  “He said he had been looking to expand his business for a while and thought that I would be a good match.”

  “That’s fantastic,” he grinned. “You took it, right?”

  “I said I’d have to think about it,” she said.

  “Gwen, what’s the hold up?”

  “So, you think I should say yes?”

  “Of course,” he said, with all the enthusiasm she didn’t show. “It’s an amazing opportunity. The pay is great, the healthcare is awesome, but more importantly, you get to travel the world, helping people who really need it. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “I don’t want to get a job because someone thinks I look good in stilettos.”

  “Mads made a pass at you?” Jamie asked in shock.

  “What? No. I meant you.”

  “You think I have any say in what Mads does?” Jamie didn’t try to keep in his increasing laughter. “No, not in any capacity. And he doesn’t mess around with who he brings onto his team. He made the offer because of you, not me.”

  “After one interview?”

  “Trust me, he knows a lot more about you than you think,” Jamie smiled. He rearranged himself on the couch so he could face her fully. “He can read people so well that he might as well be psychic.”

  “And you think I should take the job?”

  “Seriously? I thought I made that pretty clear. I’m not being subtle. The question is, do you want the job?”

  “It never really matters what I want,” Gwen muttered.

  “What do you think trumps your opinion?”

  “My brother, for one,” she said. “He’s got a knack for getting into trouble. He needs me. If I leave, he’ll be homeless.”

  “Or, he can get his own apartment. He’s working now, right? Steady job?”

  “He’s immature.”

  “Most teenagers are,” Jamie said. “But he’s older now. A bit wiser, I assume. And really, he can always come with you. Hell, if you’re just worried about him being homeless, he can crash with me. I’ll clear out my gym.”

  She turned fully to face him, her eyes taking in every inch of his face. “You’d do that for a woman you’ve had a crush on for a day and a half?”

  “Hell, no. That’s crazy,” he chuckled. “But I’d definitely do it for a teammate. So would any of the others. Which is another reason to take the job. No one will have your back like the four crazy bastards I work with.”

  “I have a life here.”

  “We’re not a cult. You can maintain contact with family and friends. You can even visit. Besides, our offices are a day’s drive away.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But all of this is a side-note to the main question.”

  “And what is that, oh wise one?” Gwen said, rolling her eyes.

  “Do you want the job?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and lowered her face. “I think I do.”

  “Well, there you have it.”

  “But what about…?”

  “You have to complete the sentence for me to understand what you’re talking about.”

  “Mads said he wanted to make the offer before…”

  Jamie groaned. “Don’t start new sentences before you finish the previous ones.”

  Annoyance flooded Gwen’s eyes as she glared at him. “What are your workplace regulations on interpersonal conduct?”

  His voice turned soft. “Did Mads say we wouldn’t be able to date?”

  “No, he just told me that he wanted to make the offer before anything happens so I have all the facts going in.”

  “Well, there you go. The boss doesn’t care, and I think we would work really well together.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think we would be able to remain an effective team if there was any other kind of relationship between us.”

  It felt like a punch in his gut, and it took a few moments for him to be able to take in a deep breath.

  “So, you’re saying that it’s the job or me?” Jamie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well,” he swallowed, “both are on offer. And I think both will be pretty awesome. Which are you going to choose?”

  “Mads gave me a few days to decide.”

  Jamie nodded as he stared at the TV. The show had ended and turned over to a sitcom he didn’t recognize. It was the worst possible time to have a laugh track playing behind him. “Right, well, let me know when you do.”

  “Jamie–”

  “We need to get moving if we’re going to get that Chinese food.” He left her on the couch as he went in search of his parka.

  Chapter Eleven

  The car ride to pick up the food was tense enough to distract them both from the danger of driving in the ever-worsening conditions. Snow had piled up along the sidewalk and turned the road into a continuous slab of ice. Jamie stared out of the window the entire time, watching the heavy snow whirling past them.

  Gwen spent the whole time trying very hard not to think about her options. She didn’t want to admit that Jamie had been right. She wanted the job. She really wanted the job. And could she really pass it up because a cute boy had flirted with her for a few hours?

  He was more than cute. Jamie had to be the most singularly handsome man she had ever seen, and the idea that they could actually be something was tempting enough to make her do something she might regret. He wasn’t going to stick around and, without a job set up, she wasn’t about to uproot herself to follow him. This – whatever it was – was a fling. A long weekend romance. Out of nowhere, she had the opportunity to actually make a career that she could be proud of. How could she pass that up?

  The ride back was better. With the scent of their dinner filling up the truck, they at least had something safe to talk about. Once the conversation started, it was easy to keep it going. It consisted mostly of playful banter, each competing over the stupidest of topics, like how to make the best scrambled eggs. Jamie insisted that they weren’t perfect without bell peppers. Which, of course, was completely inaccurate, and Gwen told him as much in increasingly colorful language.

  “I worry for your mental health,” he commented, as they pulled the truck up in front of the
main house.

  She wanted to pull it in so it didn’t freeze overnight.

  “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate bell peppers obviously has something wrong with them.”

  “I appreciate bell peppers,” she shot back. “But they don’t belong in eggs.”

  “I’m going to get you the help you need,” Jamie assured her as they made their way across the newly formed ice field.

  “Can you ever admit that you’re wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” he mused with a smirk. “I’ve never been wrong before.”

  Her glare lost some of its heat when her foot slipped out from under her. Jamie’s hand instantly reached out to steady her. They both ended up going down, the food scattering into a snowdrift. It was hard to blame each other through their laughter, but they gave it a good try.

  “You’re the one that fell,” Jamie chuckled.

  “No, you fell. And you took me down with you.”

  “I was saving you.”

  “I would have been able to correct the situation if you hadn’t gotten involved.”

  “Right. On your feet, soldier, and prove it.”

  “Our food is currently under a heap of snow.”

  He turned to her. “Are you saying you’re picking food over making me admit I was wrong?”

  A smirk pulled across her face, and she planted her hands on the ice. “Oh, we’re doing this.”

  It took a little bit of effort for them to get up, and it wasn’t until they were on their feet that either of them noticed the other people standing under the cover of the porch. Mads stood by Cheyanne’s side, and neither looked too happy.

  All trace of Jamie’s good mood vanished as he asked, “What happened?”

  “We just received a radio call from your brother,” Mads said.

  Gwen’s stomach turned as cold as the air around her. “Gawain?”

  “He is okay,” Mads replied quickly. “But a member of his party has had an accident.”

  Squaring off her shoulders, she held Mads’ eyes. “Why would they call about that? He’d call park rangers to go up and get him.”

  “There’s a storm moving in,” Cheyanne said. “He’s stuck halfway up Sulphur Mountain, and the winds are too strong for their helicopter to get close.”