by Leah Braemel
“Might not make a difference. To most people, Sam’s Hauberk. What did he do?”
“Chad caught old Barry smokin’ up with one of his principal’s teenage sons and hauled him into the office. After he’d reamed him out, he escorted Barry to his locker to clear out his stuff. That’s when they found a crap load of marijuana, ecstasy, crack. You name it, he had it. Bastard had been dealing on the side. Chad called in the police who took Germaine away in handcuffs. Last I heard he was still awaiting trial for possession with intent.”
Rosie had to agree when Scott put Germaine’s file in the “suspected” list, commenting that Germaine made a damned good suspect.
“Would Barry have had access to Sam’s home phone number when he was here?”
“No, he didn’t,” Sam added from the doorway. “Besides Mr. Germaine is currently residing in the Eastern Correctional Institution for the next few years, courtesy of the State of Maryland.”
When she glanced over at Scott, she saw the elevator doors opening on the monitor. Mrs. O’Mara stepped off, her brown and white fox terrier jumping in circles around her. Though Scott had turned the sound down, she could hear the dog’s exciting yips echo down the hall.
Kris pushed away from the table. “I need a break. Who’s up for pizza?”
Four sets of hands went up. “But no anchovies this time, Kris,” Rosie insisted and Scott argued over the addition of pineapple to the ham Andy had requested.
Sam was in the middle of adding his request—extra feta cheese and hot peppers—when the phone they’d linked to Sam’s line rang. “Got a number—says it’s a pay phone.” He read off the number slowly as Andy typed it in to his computer, before he hit the connect button. Within five seconds, he raised his hand and pointed to the receiver, mouthing, “It’s him.”
While Andy traced the location of the phone box, Kris ensured the recorder had started, and Rosie listened in on the extension, scribbling the text of the conversation into her notebook.
Less than a minute later, Sam hit the button and disconnected the call. “Same guy—usual threat.”
“Looks like it’s another payphone in Chevy Chase.” Andy shook his head. “I’ve texted the location to Chad—he’s sending a team to that location, but the guy’ll pro’ly be gone.”
Rosie patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be some witnesses or a security camera this time.”
A voice echoed through the room when Kris replayed the recording. A raucous background noise of laughter and country music made the message hard to hear, especially since the speaker spoke very quietly.
—
“Did you think those four CPOs you have can stop me? You can surround yourself with all the armed guards in the world, but I’m better than any of them. They’ll not be able to stop me. I’ll be there when you least expect it.”
“So we know he’s watching you still,” Rosie said after they’d replayed it a half dozen times. “But there’s nothing unique about that voice—no unusual phrases. No accent. Nothing that would identify him.”
“He could be using a spoof card,” Andy suggested. “Make us think he’s in one place when he’s somewhere else.”
“Except the phones are wiped,” Scott counted. “Which means even if they didn’t use it to make the actual phone call, they’d have to clean the receiver at some point right before hand and someone might see whoever it was.”
While they waited for Chad’s team to get back to them, Kris ordered the pizza. When it arrived, they took it into the kitchen, where Rosie perched on a stool at the breakfast nook beside Sam. Andy ate standing so he could monitor the hall cameras at the same time. Scott plated a couple slices and disappeared into the bedroom.
“He’s got to be one of us,” Kris said suddenly. “Or a client at the very least, someone who knows how we work.”
Rosie felt some relief when Sam looked just as confused as she felt.
“The caller,” Kris explained. “He called us CPOs. Not bodyguards the way a normal person would.”
Andy tossed away his third crust of the meat lovers’ pizza he’d insisted upon, having won the pineapple debate. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Skippy. Any one reading the Hauberk website knows that’s what we’re called. Besides, most companies call their employees CPOs these days.”
“Okay,” Kris persisted. “So how about when he said he was better than us. Maybe it’s someone who wants to make Hauberk itself look bad to future clients? Maybe we should be looking at Hauberk’s competition.”
“Could be. Or maybe it’s an ego thing,” Andy suggested, grabbing another slice. “You know, like that movie where Clint Eastwood is a secret service agent and John Malkovich is out to kill the president.”
“Man, Rene Russo was hot in that movie.” Kris shook his hand as if he’d been burned.
When Kris and Andy started debating which movies got the details of bodyguards and police work wrong, Sam shoved his plate away and stalked out.
Rosie hurried after him out of their apartment and down the hall toward the elevators. “Sam, wait. You agreed you’d not go out without one of us with you.”
His fists clenched and unclenched before he faced her. “Look, Rosebud, I’ve played this game for over a week now. I’ve cancelled appointments that I shouldn’t have, I let you guys answer my door like you’re my goddamned butlers, and I’ve been driven around in the limo like I’m Miss Freakin’ Daisy. Christ, when we’re out somewhere, Campbell and Phillips even follow me into the bathroom when I have to take a—” he swallowed what he was going to say, “—leak. And where’s it gotten me? Nowhere. That sonovabitch is still out there laughing at me. Well, no more. If he’s watching, I’m damned well going to draw him out.”
“How? You going to stand on the sidewalk and put a target on your chest and yell shoot me?”
“If that’ll end this, I’m willin’.”
She grabbed his arm, feeling the tenseness of the muscle beneath her fingers. “You aren’t seriously going out there, are you?”
He ran a hand back and forth over his head and heaved a sigh. “No. But damn it…” His hand moved from his head to her cheek. “There’s only one other thing I’d rather be doin’ than giving in to this SOB. You thought anything more about that accord, Rosebud?”
Her head tilted until her cheek rested in his palm. “I can’t, Sam. I like my job, I like working at Hauberk. If you and I have an affair, when it ends, I’ll be out of a job.” When he started to protest, she straightened her head and took a half step back, leaving his hand hovering mid-air before he dropped it a second later.
“I’m not one for casual sex. If I have an affair with you, it’ll turn into something more and you’ll…well, you’re the boss, so I’ll be the one looking for a new job.” She paused, waiting for the ache that had started in her heart to ease. “I’d have to leave Hauberk, Sam. I couldn’t stay. No matter how much you say my job isn’t on the line, my heart is. And I’m not willing to lose either.”
“Who says it would have to end?” He stepped closer, but didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her body was so aware of him it swayed toward him. Her lungs tried to fill up with that scent of him, imprinting it indelibly because one day she knew she’d never smell it again.
“Affairs always end, Sam.” And in her experience, they never ended with them being just friends.
“Maybe I want more than an affair, Rosie. Maybe I’m lookin’ for the long term.”
Her eyes closed on their own. He was so smooth, so convincing. And she wanted to believe him, but she also knew his history—she’d been checking him out along with the other employees. No one she’d interviewed could remember Sam Watson dating a woman longer than four months since he’d been with Hauberk. And he hadn’t committed himself to a longer term relationship with her, he’d simply said “maybe.”
It would end.
The door at the far end of the hall opened and the fox terrier streaked toward them, yapping its head off. The connection betwee
n them broken, Rosie stepped between Sam and the open door, her hand on her gun.
Mrs. O’Mara appeared in the doorway, and peered at them over her coke-bottle glasses. “Oh, it’s just you two. Come back here, Georgie, you naughty boy. I’d told you it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
As the old lady closed the door behind her, Rosie headed back toward 1202. Knowing he was watching, counting on it, she accentuated the roll of her hips. “So how about we go back in and see if we can find who’s been taking those photos?”
He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “You think I don’t realize you’re tryin’ to distract me from goin’ out and finding my stalker?”
“Is it working?”
“Hell, yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next night Sam didn’t appear for their usual research session. Instead he bypassed their door and headed straight to his apartment. Andy gave her a shrug and trailed him while Scott ducked into their apartment. Ten minutes later Scott sat across from Rosie, burying himself in the files piled on the dining room table.
Dark circles ringed his eyes—evidence of the nightmares he denied having but they all heard every night. Not a surprise. After Sam’s cryptic comment, she’d read Scott’s file. He’d spent three months as a hostage of some obscure group in Colombia, escaping through hostile terrain with tales of brutality that had everyone worried about those left in the camp. When he’d been cleared medically, Troy and Sam had both tried to convince him to take some time off, he’d refused and so ended up on her team.
For the next hour, she and Scott slogged through more of the Hauberk client files, while Kris finished going through the Security Guard files. She placed the last of her current pile on the table and rubbed the back of her neck against the ache that was forming. “I’m not finding anything. How about you?”
“Nothing concrete.” Kris picked up the list he’d made. “Got a few trainees who might be bitter because they washed out the Protection Agency program and ended up guarding buildings. And there are a couple who got fired who might qualify but from what I’ve seen of their write-ups they couldn’t find their dicks with a magnifying glass.”
“Guess that makes you a suspect, too,” Scott said with a grin. “I found a few possibles in the client files, but one’s left the country, one’s dead, and the other hired some hot shot firm out in California to guard them. So I can’t see they’re viable suspects.”
Before she could reply, Rosie’s Berry chirped with a familiar double tone announcing a text message had arrived. Sam.
Table 4 2 set in 1201
She shook her head and went back to the list of employees working for the Security Guard division. Five minutes later, her Berry chimed again. Chicken Creole.
“Is there a problem?” Scott asked.
“No, it’s just Sam wants me to eat at his place tonight.”
Kris, who had buried himself in yet another folder, looked up with a hopeful expression on his face. “What’s he cooking?”
When she told him, he closed the file. “Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll go. I’ve got dibs.”
“Be my guest—”
Before she could finish, Kris dashed to the front door and slammed it behind him.
A minute later, her Berry chimed again. Not Kris. You. On the heels of that message came another. Clothing optional. ;)
Sheesh! That one didn’t even warrant a reply.
The front door opened and Andy stomped in, obviously grumpy as Kris trailed him. “Sam says to get your butt over there before the champagne goes flat.”
“Champagne, as if,” she muttered. “He doesn’t have any. All he has is Heineken.”
“Yeah, he does,” Scott said. “He asked me to pick up a couple bottles of Dom Perignon this afternoon.”
“Kris, why don’t you go into the kitchen and toss one of those frozen cannellonis Rosie bought into the oven. Scott…” Andy paused. “Shoot, just leave us alone, will you? I want to have a private word with Rosie.”
Some sort of unspoken communication passed between the two men. Scott nodded and headed to his bedroom as her Berry rang again.
Apple Crumble & French vanilla ice cream 4 dessert.
What had he done? Called her mother to find out her favorite dessert? And vanilla ice cream, how ironic. If ice cream was a metaphor for sex, vanilla certainly described her love life lately. She had a feeling Sam’s would be Rocky Road.
“When are you going to admit there’s something between you two?” Andy asked quietly.
“You know the rules say operatives can’t get romantically involved with their principals.”
“Oh, screw the rules.” He groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “Come on, Rosie, you gotta give the rest of us poor shlubs some hope.”
“I’m not willing to risk my job for a couple of nights of…” mindblowing sex, but she wasn’t about to say that, “…fun. Because at some point it’ll end and I’ll be out of a job.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or you could end up Mrs. Rosie Watson, mother of 2.4 kids and part owner of Hauberk. You’re using the job as a shield, Rosie. Since when did you sprout a yellow stripe on your back?”
“It’s just…” She rubbed her face with her hands. Day by day, hour by hour, Sam had been chinking away at her armor until the barriers she’d thrown up were tissue-paper thin. “It’s just Sam’s so…Sam, you know?”
“Larger than life? I thought women liked that type.” He leaned back, sprawling his legs wide, his arms stretched along the back of the couch. “You’re not usually a coward, so what’s the problem?”
“He’s…he’s not like any other man I’ve ever dated before,” she said slowly. He makes me feel things with an intensity I’ve never felt before. He makes me want to do things with him, to him, for him I’ve never considered with another man.
Whenever she felt any of her other lovers gaining any modicum of control over her, her claws came out and they ended up running away with their tails between their legs. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, all her need for control fled around Sam.
“Can’t say I know many people like him, so that makes sense.” He rubbed his thumbs across his eyes. “I have to be honest, Sam’s got his kinky side, but I don’t think he’d ever ask you to do something you weren’t willing to do. He’s not a big bad wolf who’s going to tear you apart. Besides I get the feeling you could wrap him around your little finger if you tried.”
What the hell did Sam’s got his kinky side mean? But before she could ask, he eyed her suspiciously. “You haven’t got some hang up about sex, have you?”
She plopped onto the couch beside him, her legs unable to support her. Her face felt like someone had just set a flamethrower to it. “No. It’s not about sex.”
No, sex with Sam Watson would be off the charts of the Incredible Scale. Look at the orgasm he’d given her with only his tongue and fingers. Her pussy started creaming just at the thought of his cock filling into her.
One of side of his mouth hitched up. “I’m just saying I think you could trust Sam not to overstep whatever boundaries you set, you know?” He gestured to her Blackberry which was buzzing again. “Besides, he’s only asking you to dinner.”
With her as dessert.
Trouble was, now she didn’t know if she’d simply become a challenge to be conquered. A rose to be pruned, enjoyed until the blossom faded, and then tossed aside and replaced with a new flower. She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not just dinner. It’s more than that.” It’s my whole life. My job. My home. My heart.
“You have a chance at love and you’re kicking it away like it’s an old tin can when the rest of us…” Andy trailed off. “Well, the some of us have it yanked from us, you know? And we’d give anything to grab it and hold onto it.”
She grabbed the only lifeline she could find. “I don’t know.”
Andy pushed himself to a stand. “Just think of it as your downtime. Pretend you went to bed e
arly and let me look after things here. The place is secure—nothing’s going to happen. If someone wanted to take a pot shot at him, it’ll be somewhere public. Otherwise they’d have already gotten to him.”
“But it’s my—”
He pulled her to her feet and marched her to the door. “Go have dinner with Sam, Rosie. And if you two don’t hit it off, come back here.”
Her Berry beeped again. Trust me. Please.
It was the please that unraveled all her arguments, that had her walking down the hallway.
Just as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened and Sam stood there, filling the doorway.
“About that accord…” she whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
The smug smile she was expecting never appeared. Instead he bent down, brushing his lips over hers in a feather-light touch before pulling back and leading her by both hands into the foyer. He closed the door and pulled her close, cupping her cheek.
“Are you sure ’bout this, Rosebud? ’Cause I don’t want you saying I pressured you later.”
No, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but there was no way she was going to stop whatever rock had just started rolling down the hill to perdition. Not after she’d had a sampling of the bliss he could bring her. Besides, Andy was right, she had a shot at happiness, something she should grab with both hands. She’d had enough of all the coulda-woulda-shouldas. Even if their affair only lasted one night, she wouldn’t—couldn’t—turn away now.
When she nodded, he slid one hand down to her bottom and lifted her until his erection nestled in the cradle of her hips. She felt a quiver of trepidation mixed with a tidal wave of lust. That thing wouldn’t just fill her, it would overfill her. And she wanted every inch of it deep inside.
Could he feel how her heart raced or hear how her breathing caught in her throat? Could he smell the moisture drenching her thong at the thought of him going down on her again? Of her going down on him?
