by Mia Dymond
Ace shifted his weight from one side to the other, not exactly sure why Remington’s last comment rubbed him like sandpaper. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Carley’s very bright smile.
“Of course.” She stepped forward and laid a hand on Remington’s forearm. “Enjoy yourself.”
Ace smirked as she then took his hand and quickly tugged him away from the bar.
“I thought you said the two of you are friends,” he said as they wove their way through the crowd and finally stopped in front of the buffet tables.
“We are.”
“Coulda fooled me. We made it across the room in record time.”
A pretty blush spread across her cheeks. “Christopher has the gift of gab. We would’ve been there all night.”
He glanced at one of the party hostesses, surrounded by a fan of black feathers, as she placed several platters of mini strawberry shortcakes on the table. He chuckled at the red and black dice poked into the whipped cream on top.
“The dice are a nice touch.”
“Thanks.”
He moved his gaze over the table, taking in all the small touches she took the time to prepare. Not only did the revolver-shaped cookies look delicious, they were frosted with black icing, complete with a trigger. Cupcakes nearby were frosted in bright colors with feathers poked within. His attention was pulled back to the shortcakes, though, when he thought he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Curious, he moved his gaze back to the dessert. At that exact moment, the red-colored cube on one mound wiggled.
Without moving his gaze, he turned a semi-circle with his back to the crowd and then spoke. “Um, Carley?”
“Yes?”
“Very quietly, come and stand next to me.”
“Okay, I’m here,” she said within seconds. “What’s wrong?”
“Check out the dice on the third strawberry shortcake from the left.”
“The red one just moved!” she whispered.
“Can we get these cleared quickly without making a scene?”
The question had no sooner left his lips than what appeared to be a nest of coal-black scorpions crawled out from the mountains of whipped cream. One by one in a caravan of scaly soldiers, they moved quickly from their whipped cream prison, down the golden cakes, and then scurried across the tablecloth. A hysterical scream pierced his right eardrum and then traveled from woman to woman anywhere near the desserts. Within seconds, his teammates swarmed the table and each of them quickly grabbed any coffee cup within reach to trap the arachnids underneath.
“We need more cups,” Thunder growled.
He swallowed hard when an escaped scorpion fell from the table and onto the top of his boot. Damn, he hated creepy crawlies. Reminded him too much of the desert. Without a second thought, he shook it from his boot and then stomped on it. One less to worry about, in his book.
With a sick sense of satisfaction, he scrambled for cups, trapping each and every scorpion he could.
Chaos finally took a step back. “A flashbang would’ve been a helluva lot easier.”
“I agree,” Rebel muttered. “Anybody see one we missed?”
Thunder shook his head. “No. Everglade Springs PD is en route.”
“Can they really do anything?” Carley sighed. “I’m not sure this is a crime.”
“They’ll bring animal control and make a report. That’s about all they can do.”
“What a mess,” she groaned. “Somebody really wants to put me out of business.”
“Maybe, but why?”
“I have absolutely no idea, but it’s a little ironic that my last two parties have turned into complete catastrophes.”
“Any suspects?”
“Not on the surface.” Thunder gestured at the kitchen with his head. “I’ll start with the kitchen staff.”
He glanced around the room, not surprised to see most of the guests leaving the area. Sophie stood with Senator and Mrs. Graystone at the door, offering both apologies and reassurance. Kat and Judge Abbott sat at the poker table, dealing cards to guests who obviously weren’t bothered by the interruption. Surprisingly, even though other guests lined up to leave, they didn’t appear too upset.
He draped an arm around Carley’s waist, drew her close to him, and planted a kiss against the top of her head. Chaos snickered beside him. He frowned. Screw discreet.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
“I didn’t know there are even scorpions that size in Florida.”
“Guess so,” Chaos mumbled.
She released a hard breath. “I need to go check on my staff.”
“I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”
His body cursed the separation as she left his side and headed toward the kitchen.
Rebel ran a hand through his hair. “She can’t go home alone, Ace. Not after this – it’s too coincidental.”
“I’ll stay with her.”
“Your gear in the truck?”
He nodded.
“Hang tight.” Chaos grinned. “As soon as I can pry Kat away from the tables, I’ll give you a tail.”
***
Liv stood next to Thunder at the dessert table while her heart broke in two for Carley at the sight of multiple upside down coffee cups. Although the problem had been temporarily contained, she couldn’t stop her stomach from flip-flopping at what rested beneath each cup.
“What a disaster,” she murmured.
“Agreed.” Thunder’s tone held an angry edge. “But how the hell are we going to exterminate them?”
“I’m assuming animal control will take care of it, but I don’t know that for sure.”
“One down, thanks to Ace.”
She moved her gaze to the scaly puddle of guts on the floor. “Yeah,” she said as she grabbed a napkin and then bent to spread it over the carcass. “One less to worry about.”
“Nasty bugs,” Thunder mumbled. “Although, they’re twice that size in the desert.”
“I don’t want to think about it. How in the world did they end up in the dessert? They didn’t just crawl there.”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” He grasped her elbow and moved her away from the table and into an isolated corner. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. I was with you at the poker table, remember?”
“I remember. Taking all my money, as I recall.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she teased.
“Your bluffing skills are impressive, Doc.”
She blinked twice in surprise. “You know about my degree?”
“Is it a secret?”
“Well, no. I just don’t advertise it.”
“I know lots of things about you.”
“Yet, I know little about you,” she countered.
He shrugged. “Not much to know.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“Believe me, your PhD in psychology is much more impressive than anything you’ll know about me.”
Although she still doubted him, she didn’t push. Something told her that Thunder’s secrets were buried way down deep inside of himself and no one, professional or otherwise, could uncover them unless he gave permission.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to camp out with my parents a little longer.”
Thunder nodded in response and mentally prepared himself for an argument. Well, an argument by Liv’s standards, anyway. Inevitably, she’d have some sort of explanation about why it would be in her best interest not to follow his advice. And if he weren’t careful, her sparkling blue eyes just might pull him over to the dark side.
He was ready to play hardball. The Blackwell estate was an impressive compound with security in place in the unfortunate event of a breach. Her family was well-connected enough that the police would respond in record time and in the meantime …. he’d be parked right outside, ready to take the idiot down who dared to intervene. How had Ace put it? Discreet. He’d keep a discreet eye
on her.
“I planned on it,” she said finally with a smirk.
Relieved to have avoided another discussion about why his suggestion just happened to be the right one, he quickly took advantage.
“Do you keep office hours daily?”
“You already know I do.”
True, he did know. “Cancel the car service.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I thought you’d agree that using the service was better than driving myself.”
“It is.”
“But?”
“I’ll drive you myself.”
She groaned. “Something tells me this whole situation has just gone from bad to worse.”
“Better safe than sorry. There’s just a whole lot we don’t know.”
“What makes you so sure I’m safe at the office?”
“You are.”
She folded her arms across her chest and gave her breasts a nice boost to the top of her dress. He silently congratulated himself for his expert peripheral vision. With an iron will, he kept his gaze focused on hers, not sure if she was gathering steam for another round or not. Didn’t really matter to him, he found it stimulating as hell that she challenged him word for word.
“I leave at seven o’clock a.m.”
He knew that, as well. “I’ll pick you up at six forty-five.”
She dropped her arms and grinned. “You realize that only gives me more of an opportunity to question you, right?”
“Yes.” He’d done worse in the name of duty. “But nothing says I have to answer.”
***
Once they arrived at Carley’s house, Ace balled both fists to keep from reaching for her as he followed her through the front doorway and then closed the door. As badly as he wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss it all better, he knew she needed space at this point, time to process the possibility that the sabotage on her parties might be personal. Despite her current vulnerability, he knew one thing for certain: Carley was made of stern stuff with an incredible ability to grab adversity by the balls and squeeze. Tight.
“All of the bedrooms are upstairs and the master is at the far end. Help yourself to either of the spare rooms.”
He grinned. “You realize I’ve already memorized the layout of this perimeter, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to shower and change, then we’ll talk strategy.”
“Strategy?”
She nodded. “The Senators’ Reception is tomorrow night. I need that party to go as planned, without any surprises.” She turned and headed up the stairs. “I’ll meet you in the den in fifteen minutes.”
He watched her climb the stairs, hypnotized by the sway of her slender hips and the magnificent view of her heart-shaped ass. Damn, the woman had a tantalizing body. Although she stood almost a foot shorter than his six-foot stature, she packed a whole lot of dynamite in a small package. He pried his gaze from her body and forced himself to head for one of the spare bedrooms to change clothes.
He took his time as he climbed the stairs, taking time to appreciate the elegant yet comfortable interior of Carley’s home. They’d entered the home into a round, open room, complete with a bright but conservative chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The walls were painted in a soft chocolate color and showcased several black and white prints of cityscapes in black frames. A large, black coat tree occupied the wall by the door, with a long chest covered by a cushion.
The entryway branched off into five rooms: a formal living area, dining room, and a kitchen on the left and a larger, less formal living room and a guest bath on the right. He’d been truthful when he told that he knew the layout – he’d pulled the floor plan when she earlier admitted she didn’t have a security system, something that still bothered him. He planned to change that.
He chose the first bedroom he encountered, stepped inside, and closed the door, impressed by the black furnishings and chocolate walls, identical to the ones in the entry. He grinned. Come to think of it, all the walls he’d seen so far were painted the same color.
He tossed his duffel on the bed, shrugged his suit coat from his shoulders, and then hung it on a nearby chair while he turned his attention back to the party and ran facts through his brain. Whoever planted the scorpions in the shortcakes obviously had access to the kitchen. And common sense told him the deed had to be done quickly to prevent an early appearance by the uninvited guests. Was it luck they stayed hidden until the desserts reached the table?
Thunder’s interview of the kitchen staff didn’t provide any information other than the chef hired by Carley was one she used on a continual basis and profited extremely well from the arrangement. There was absolutely no reason, on the surface anyway, for the man to sabotage the operation. As far as the wait staff near the dessert table, it was his personal experience that women and scaly things usually did not go hand in hand. He popped the button on his dress pants, lowered the zipper, and then stepped out of them. The whole thing didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Obviously, the perp didn’t mean to physically hurt anyone; most of the human population knew that a scorpion’s sting burnt like hell, but wouldn’t cause death. No, the act was definitely an attempt to tarnish Carley’s reputation or an elaborate distraction. For what, he didn’t know.
He grabbed a pair of jeans out of his bag and pulled them over his hips, zipped them, pulled his black t-shirt from the waistband, and then sat back on the bed. Two parties, two different forms of sabotage, and a crowd of prominent suspects. Helluva mess.
He took his combat boots from his duffel, sat them on the floor in front of him, and then slid his feet inside. Unfortunately, the answers wouldn’t come easy but when he did get to the bottom of things he would make damn sure Carley received satisfaction.
He quickly laced his boots and then made his way down the stairs and into the den, surprised to see her already there, sitting cross-legged in the floor with several newspaper-sized pages spread in front of her.
He fought the urge to chuckle. “Strategy?”
She looked up and nodded. “The Senators’ Reception is a little tricky. Assigned seating and tight security throws a major kink in my plan sometimes.”
He sat down beside her, moving his gaze over the maze of colorful images, not entirely sure he could break the code.
“Can you take me through the puzzle?”
“It’s simple, really,” she explained. “The event is going to be held at the Westminster Hotel in the same room where Sophie and Rebel held their engagement party.”
He nodded while he ran the layout of the place through his mind. Nice big room, easily secured. And, Carley had been exactly right when she’d mentioned security could make things tricky; the place would crawl with bodyguards.
“There will be a dance floor in the middle,” she continued, “and the buffet tables will line the edges of the room.” She tapped a line of green rectangles. “These are the Senators’ tables. The other colored rectangles represent the remainder of the seating chart.”
“Does this party have a theme?”
“Mardi Gras.”
He decided it was the best time as any to throw a kink in her plan. “I think you should add professional help this time.”
She frowned. “My staff is completely professional. And, thank goodness, no one decided to bail on me after all this excitement.”
“That’s not what I meant. Alpha Four will join your staff.”
“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re extending an invitation for all of them?”
He nodded. “It’s the next logical step. We can get more Intel if we mingle.”
“Okay, I can always use more help.”
He breathed a silent breath of relief. “What kind of get-up do you have for us this time?”
“Another suit. I’ll keep it festive, but semi-formal.”
“No feathers, right?”
“No feathers.”
“You realize I’ve only been a waiter one other time,
right?” That time, he’d volunteered under the excuse of catching Sophie’s art thief. And although that was the original purpose, it didn’t hurt that the excuse kept him close to Carley.
“Relax, you’ll do fine.”
“You amaze me, Carley.”
“I do? Why?”
“You have amazing creativity. The way you take a theme and spin it into an elaborate party is simply brilliant.”
“Thanks, but I have a lot of help.”
“You’re too modest. I’ve heard people talk – you’re an expert.”
“Yeah, well, maybe not after tonight,” she mumbled.
“We’re working on it,” he promised as he stood and extended a hand. “There’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
“Okay.”
“You need an alarm system.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Absolutely.”
He paused, hoping he wouldn’t be forced to reveal his thought that she might possibly be in real danger. Although he had no solid proof, he didn’t need it. A gut feeling was enough.
“What kind of alarm?”
He grinned. “Do you know the difference?”
“No, I just like specifics.”
“A good one. You ready to call it a night?”
“Yes.” She released a soft sigh and the sound went straight to his groin as she slid her hand into his and stood. “Thank you, Ace.”
“For what?”
“For watching out for me.”
He tipped her chin with one finger. “Believe me, Carley, it is my absolute pleasure to watch you.”
He lowered his head and took her lips with his, practicing great restraint to keep from swallowing her whole. A very feminine groan left her mouth as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed him closer, as if the kiss wasn’t deep enough. Taking full advantage of her not-so-subtle hint, he moved his hands to cup her face and went in for the kill. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. His cock stretched, severely pissed off for its lack of participation.
Holy God, the woman made him weak.
