Badass: Jungle Fever (Complete): A Billionaire Military Romance

by Leslie Johnson

  “I’m so sor…” I begin, but the word breaks off as I recognize Janine. “Oh … I ...”

  She’s smiling. No, she’s smirking. No … it’s something else.

  I back up and am stopped by someone behind me. A large hand comes down on my shoulder.

  “Aren’t you even going to say hello?” she asks.

  Then she does the strangest thing. She lifts her hand and blows a powder in my face.

  Surprise forces me to inhale.

  I blink and her smile grows bigger. Broader. Even nastier than before.

  And when she says, “Come with me, Camille,” I do.

  Jungle Fever (Book 2)

  Chapter One – Tate

  “Deak,” I bark into the phone. “I expected to hear from you hours ago.”

  David Deakins, my assistant and right-hand man at Black Shield doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes, sir. If you’ll remember, I attended the advisory board breakfast in your place.”

  Dammit. I hate when I forget shit and look like a dick. “That’s right. Sorry about being an asshole. I must be more tired than I thought.”

  Yeah. A full night of fucking will suck the brain cells out of the best of men. I force my mind off Camille and back on what Deakins is saying.

  “Sir, I processed your request for a background check on the two security guards prior to the meeting. It’s in process, but initial discovery has uncovered a concerning anomaly I felt you needed to be aware of immediately.”

  I stiffen and press the phone closer to my ear. “What anomaly?”

  “In first pass, we were unable to locate either Josiah Ruiz or Antonio Sosa as working for any U.S. security firm. I’ve checked the passenger manifest of every flight into Colombia over the past twenty-four hours and neither man was registered as passengers under those names. I’m expanding that search to seventy-two hours and surrounding airports.”

  Fuck.

  Tapping on the seat in front of me, I tell the driver to turn around and head back to the hotel.

  The driver looks at me over his shoulder. “In this traffic?” he asks in Spanish. “You won’t make it to the airport in time.”

  “Si, cien dólares si se da prisa,” I tell him.

  His eyes grow wide in the rear view mirror. A hundred extra dollars down here is like gold. “Si, senor.” Horns blare all around us as he changes lanes, forcing us into a space far smaller than we need. More horns blare as he whips us into a left turn, just inches from a bus.

  I turn my attention back to Deakins. “Sir, your message stated that Miss Duffy confirmed their background, is that correct?”

  I replay the conversation with Camille. She hedged around the truth, wouldn’t meet my eyes, then gave me the “I’m a business woman” speech without answering me directly. When I get back to the hotel, Miss Duffy has some explaining to do.

  “I’m heading back to the hotel now, Deak, and will let you know as soon as I tear the truth from her little throat. Continue with the expanded airport search and also rescan security companies, cross-checking the names based on a combination of firsts and lasts.”

  “Yes, sir, consider it done. I’ll also report to James to let him know your take-off time will be delayed.”

  “Appreciate it. Get back to me ASAP with scan results.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m estimating an hour.”

  Looking at my watch, I see it’s already eleven-twenty-two local time. That’s nine-twenty-two in Salt Lake. I have an important conference call scheduled for eight p.m., which was already cutting it close considering the seven-and-a-half-hour flight I’m facing. I’m going to kick Camille’s ass when I see her.

  “And you’ll probably have to transfer the conference call to my sat-phone since it looks like I’ll still be in the air tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll transfer the contract to your iPad at that time as well.”

  “You’re a good man, Deak. Thanks for being on top of this.”

  There’s a pause, then, “Thank you, sir.” Another pause. “Anything else you need?”

  Deakins never pauses. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Another pause. “You made headlines last night, sir.”

  Headlines?

  I close my eyes. The club. The paparazzi. “Terrific. Did my ass look good in my jeans at least?”

  There’s a small puff of air that I assume is a laugh. “Glorious, sir.”

  Shaking my head, I ask, “Do I want to know the headline, Deak?”

  Another puff of air. “No, sir, but it would make my day to be able to tell you.”

  I groan. “That bad?”

  “Heiress Exits Colombian Nightclub with Hunky Hero.” Another puff of air. “In the story, there’s rumors that Mattel is using your body in their design to create the next generation G.I. Joe doll.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. “Tell me you’re lying.”

  “Do you think I’m creative enough to make that up?”

  It’s my turn to laugh, as the image of my nerdy looking assistant comes to mind. “Nope, your pocket protector generates a creative force field around you.”

  I tap the end button before he can reply, feeling a wave of affection for my assistant. Affection? Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? I snuggled for one hour with Camille this morning after she wore me down with her pleading. One fucking hour and I’ve turned into a pussy.

  Looking out the window, I try to gauge our position and how long it will take to get back to the hotel. Traffic is bumper to bumper and moving at a crawl.

  G.I. Joe doll? Me? Really?

  I curse a string of my favorite words under my breath. I’ll never get to the top of the security world if I become a paparazzi joke. And with Camille comes the pap. Another reason I need to cut whatever the hell that’s growing between us off.

  I look around for a metro station sign and ask the driver how close to the nearest station we are. The traffic is so bad down here they had to build overhead gondolas and a subway type system to get people around. Even with those glass boxes and trains, it’s still shit down here.

  “Two blocks,” he tells me.

  I pull out my wallet and hand the driver a hundred, then grab my bag and open the door. His “gracias, senor” is cut off when it slams shut behind me and I take off for the station.

  Back at the hotel, I push into the lobby. A quick glance around and I see her crew sitting around a table in the corner restaurant, but no Camille.

  I lift a hand when they recognize me, but head straight to the elevators. Dozens of people are waiting, some kid pushing the damn button over and over. Stairs it is.

  At the top, I wipe the sweat off my forehead and force my breath into a normal rhythm. Stepping into the hallway, I notice the empty chair outside her door immediately. Okay, she could be heading down in the elevators and we just missed each other. I know her itinerary by heart. She had planned to spend an hour with the team downstairs, prior to heading to the first photo site today. I’ll check her room now, knowing I have plenty of time to catch her before she leaves the hotel, if we did miss each other.

  Banging on the door once gives me no response, so I bang on it again. I wait sixty seconds before banging a third time, then turn my back to the hallway camera and slide my picking device from my bag.

  In twenty seconds, I’m in and close the door softly behind me. Wait. Listen. Nothing.

  I pull the hard case box from my bag, open it up and reach for my small Sig Sauer 9mm, slipping the clip into the handle. Still nothing. Really nothing. A brief look around the room and I realize some of her shit is gone. Personal shit. Not just cameras.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Opening the closet, one of her suitcases is nowhere to be seen. The woman takes three bags with her everywhere she goes. Now there’s only two. Clothes are hanging, but not as many as I remember being there before. I step into the bathroom. Half the girly shit is gone too. Back in the bedroom, I go through the drawers. Things have definitely been taken.
/>   I repeat. What the fuck is going on?

  Stuffing the loaded Sig in the front pocket of the bag, I leave the room and head downstairs. Her team is still there and I walk over to them. None of them seem concerned. They’re just sipping their drinks or looking at menus. Cheryl waves when she notices me come closer.

  “Where’s Camille?” I ask, and Cheryl’s smile drops from her face.

  Ryan looks around the table, then answers. “She went ahead to the site. Said she had forgotten something and would meet us there after lunch.”

  My gut twists. “Who went with her?”

  Cheryl stands up. “Tate, what’s wrong?”

  I address Ryan again. “Who was with her?”

  Ryan looks around the table and I slam my fist against the wood. Dishes clatter and heads swivel from all directions. I stare at the young man and Ryan swallows. “The two guards and… and Janine.”

  Shit!

  “We didn’t even know Janine was going to be here,” Cheryl adds and lowers her voice. “Last night, Camille told me in private that they’d had an argument of some sort and Janine was flying home, but I guess…” She lifts a shoulder, eyeing me carefully. “I guess they made up?”

  I take a step closer to Cheryl and she shrinks away and her husband, Teddy, stands up. Realizing I probably look like Satan’s henchman right now, I step away, force my face to relax and pull a long dose of oxygen into my system. Blowing out the breath, I ask, “Tell me everything. Every little detail, whether it seems important or not.”

  “Details like what?” Teddy asks.

  “Did Camille look and sound like herself? How about Janine? You all worked together before. Did she seem normal? And what about the bodyguards? Did they seem nervous? Looking around a lot?”

  I shut my mouth so they can begin talking.

  “Well,” Cheryl begins, “Camille seemed quieter than normal. She said she was feeling sick, but that she’d taken some aspirin and would be okay.”

  Teddy shakes his head. “No, Janine told us that Camille was sick.” The man’s forehead wrinkles in deep concentration. “Actually, Janine would say something to Camille and Camille would answer.”

  Ryan’s eyes open wide. “You’re right, Teddy. Janine said something like ‘tell them that we’re going to the site to look at something you forgot.’ Then Camille basically just repeated her. Even when they left, Janine said ‘tell them goodbye’ and Camille did. I remember thinking that Janine was treating Cam like a child.”

  Cheryl’s fingers lift to her lips. “I remember that Camille’s pupils were really big, but its dim in here, so I didn’t think too much about it. But now that I think of it, they were really big, almost covering all the iris. And she didn’t smile like she usually does. That’s why I believed her when she said she was sick. She always smiles.”

  Drugs.

  But which drug would make her act the way they described?

  Damn. I press the heel of my hand against my temple. I already know.

  “The bodyguards. What were they doing during that time?”

  Teddy’s forehead wrinkles even more. “I only saw the one. I don’t remember his name.” He looks around the table.

  Cheryl shakes her head. “I saw both of them. One was pushing the rolling cart out the door and…” she snaps her fingers, “Antonio stayed near Camille and Janine.”

  Teddy nods eagerly. “Yeah, I think you’re right, honey.”

  “What was Josiah pushing?” I ask the table at large, but Cheryl’s already shaking her head.

  “I didn’t see. I assume it was the camera and equipment?” She bites her lip and looks at the others. They both shrug.

  Digging in my bag, I pull out a business card. “Here’s my card. It’s got my cell and my home office phone numbers on it. If you can’t reach me, call that number and speak to David Deakins.” I shut my eyes, thinking through all the possibilities. Looking at them again, I add, “Call Deakins anyway. Let him know your names and contact information. I’m going to search for Camille, but we need a way to contact you to let you know what’s going on. You don’t leave this hotel without authorization from me or Deakins.”

  Teddy opens his mouth.

  I shut it for him. “At this moment, I’m treating this as a kidnapping. Your lives might be in danger too. I’ll send down extra security to protect you, but you can’t leave this hotel until they get here. They’ll be wearing a black Black Shield shirt and will have Black Shield identification.”

  Ryan stands up, looking shaken and very concerned. “Do you think you’re overreacting? Maybe she’s really just hanging with Janine and doing what she said?”

  I look him straight in the eye. “I hope so. Beer’s on me if she is.”

  “But…” Tears well in Cheryl’s eyes and her fair cheeks turn splotchy. “But you don’t think so, do you?”

  Tell the truth.

  “No, I don’t think so. You all stay here, charge anything you need to your hotel rooms and I’ll take care of it later. Call Deakins and then wait to hear from one of us. I know that sucks, but it’s what I need you all to do.”

  Cheryl begins to cry harder and I turn away, heading toward the front desk of the hotel. I need access to the hotel cameras for the past hour. I stop and take out my phone and hit speed dial.

  Deakins answers on the first ring. “No news yet, sir.”

  “New assignment, Deak. I need you to begin a location trace for Camille Duffy. New phone, iPad, laptop. Everything. I also need everything you can find on Janine Scott, especially in connection to Camille.”

  “Yes, sir. Beginning immediately. Anything else?”

  I brief him on the current events as I know them, then blow out a breath. “Yes. I need you to find someone who knows everything there is to know about scopolamine.”

  Chapter Two – Camille

  “I’d like to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars from my account,” I say to the pretty dark haired woman behind the desk. Janine is sitting beside me and pushes my driver’s license and passport across to her.

  “And your account number?”

  What account number?

  “Here it is, Camille.” Janine slips a piece of paper into my hands. “Read her the numbers.”

  Looking down, I read off the eleven digits. Then I read them again when I’m asked for clarification.

  The woman across the desk looks at me, concern filling her eyes. “Are you alright?”

  Am I alright?

  Janine places a hand on my forearm and says, “She’s actually a little out of it. Food poisoning. Plus, we were robbed yesterday and we need the money to replace all the stolen equipment for our photo shoot this week.”

  “That’s terrible news. Our streets are usually much safer than that.”

  “Just our bad luck, I suppose,” Janine murmurs. “I have the police report if you need to see it.” She begins to search through her purse and then slides a folded document to the woman.

  The woman reviews the papers and looks at me again. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”

  Am I alright?

  I stare at her and Janine answers for me. “She will be. It’s so sweet of you to be concerned.”

  The woman turns to a computer and begins tapping on the keyboard. The printer beside her begins to hum and soon a few pieces of paper spit out. She reviews them and slides them across the desk to me, along with an ink pen. “Sign here and here.” She flips the page. “And here.”

  I lift the pen and watch my hand sign my name. What am I signing? I wonder vaguely.

  “Very good.” The woman stands up. “It will take about fifteen minutes for us to prepare the withdrawal from the safe. Are large bills adequate?”

  She’s looking at me again, an eyebrow raised, asking me a question. I concentrate hard, trying to read her lips, while something begins to buzz in my ears. Bile stirs in my stomach and the woman tilts sideways.

  “Oh no, I think she’s going to be sick again.” Janine stands and helps li
ft me until I’m standing too. “Where’s your restrooms? Large bills are perfect.”

  Janine leads me in the direction the woman is pointing, saying, “We’ll get you back to the hotel to rest right after this.” And she keeps talking, but the words don’t sound right. The words sound too loud and strange. And there’s people staring at me. Pointing. Their mouths are growing wider and wider … becoming great gaping voids and all I can hear are their screams.

  I cover my ears and try to sink to the floor. “It’s okay, it’s not real,” Janine tells me, as she forces me to keep walking toward the people. No. I don’t want to go that way. The screams are too loud. But Janine keeps pulling me in that direction and I let her.

  A moan rises in my throat and Janine snaps at me, “Be quiet. It’s not real. It’s not real.”

  It is real.

  Hundreds of people, with mouths for their faces, their arms stretching toward me, growing longer. They’re pointing. Reaching. Getting closer. So very close.

  Then I’m pushed inside a room and slapped across the face.

  “Listen to me. It’s not real. Do what I tell you. Tell me you understand?”

  Her face is bouncing up and down, vibrating, and I have to close my eyes because the motion is making me sick. Janine curses and turns me to a toilet, bending me over just as vomit shoots from my mouth. My stomach seizes and cramps. My throat burns from the acid. The sound of my retching hurts my ears.

  “That’s right. Sick it all up. You’ll feel better after this. Tell me that you’ll feel better.”

  I try to say the words, but more vomit comes, burning its way through my system.

  She steps away to wet some paper towels and comes back to pat them on my face. “Tell me you’ll do everything I say,” she says, more gently this time.

  “I’ll do everything you say.”

  “Tell me that you’ll ignore the hallucinations.” She leads me from the stall and to the sink.

  “I’ll ignore the hallucinations.”

  “Good girl. Now splash cold water on your face, Camille.”