by Loye, Trish
Instead, Dr. Levington had turned out to be an annoying prick who thought having a bodyguard increased his importance. Jack almost rolled his eyes as the man yet again pointed him out to a colleague.
He decided against buying new pants. There would be no blending in with Dr. Levington shining a spotlight on him. The man would probably prefer it if Jack wore brass knuckles.
Had he just made a fucking huge mistake by being here?
He’d gotten word from a contact on the dark net that the auction might be taking place in Turkey. But instead he was here following a tip from a dead man. He prayed Corporal Andrews had been telling him the truth. Jack had to fight the urge to pace as he thought about Spider potentially slipping away.
He took a deep breath as he focused on the here and now, watching and analyzing the people who walked in the front doors. He’d spotted one other bodyguard in the crowd, as well as an undercover copper.
The tall woman who’d called Sherlock by her name definitely moved like a trained fighter, balanced well, resting on the balls of her feet and ready to move. Her gaze had been hard and assessing when she’d seen him. Was she Sherlock’s bodyguard?
For a second Jack entertained the notion of what it would be like to be Sherlock’s bodyguard. She barely came up to his shoulder, but she’d looked like she wanted to take him on when he’d challenged her. It might have been fun to see what she could do.
She hadn’t struck him as the type to want or need a bodyguard, though. Her movements said she could take care of herself. He’d tried hard not to stare. The smooth perfection of her skin; her full lips and large brown eyes. Or all those long, loose curls tied back into a ponytail that swung when she walked.
He scanned the crowd. Dr. Levington stood by the elevators scowling at him.
Bollocks. Sherlock was distracting him even when she wasn’t standing in front of him accusing him of not being smart enough to be a scientist.
That wasn’t what she said.
But she might as well have. He’d been a puzzle for her to figure out. Once she had, she’d moved on. Now he had to move on from her or he was going to lose this gig and access to the conference. And nothing was going to stand in his way if his prey was here.
He strode to the elevator and arrived just as the doors opened. Dr. Levington shook his head at Jack and stepped inside, leaving his rolling suitcase behind. Jack ignored the suitcase and followed him on.
Dr. Levington’s mouth dropped open. “Aren’t you going to get my bag?”
“I am your bodyguard,” he growled. “Not your bellboy, not your mate, and not your butler. Are we clear?”
Dr. Levington sniffed and grabbed his suitcase, wrestling it onto the elevator. “Fine. But you’d better be worth the money I’m paying.”
Jack barely restrained himself from retorting that the tech company was paying him. Bollocks. He had eight more hours of this before his replacement came for the night shift. He stared at the elevator doors and reminded himself that murder was illegal.
Pity.
4
Charlie’s phone played “Secret Agent Man.” She opened her eyes and squinted against the bright sunshine filling the small hotel room. Her thoughts reeled into one another like drunken soldiers.
Where…? Oh, right. London.
What…? Oh, a mission.
She blinked. Her mission.
Okay, maybe not a mission. But still, the possibility of a mission.
She sat up. She still wore the jeans and sweater she’d had on earlier. She had settled her aunt in her room down the hall when she’d come in, dropped her luggage…and sat down for a minute. She rubbed a hand over her face. How could she have fallen asleep?
“Secret Agent Man” played again.
Crap. Cat was calling her. She swiped a finger on her phone.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” She could hear the smile in Cat’s voice.
She sighed. “I like to think of myself more as Merida from Brave.”
“You mean you’re impulsive and childish?” her friend teased.
“No,” she said with dignity. “Someone who actually does something besides sleep.”
Her friend snorted. “I wanted to let you know I’m with Gears. We’re coordinating surveillance for the week.”
Someone said something in the background. “You need anything?” Cat asked her.
“No. Do you need me to come help?”
“Definitely not,” Cat said. “You’re not to come anywhere near the surveillance. Your only job is to be a conference attendee and to observe the potential suspects. Gears and I are here to observe, and be backup. Don’t try to do any investigating on your own. There’s no need.”
She gritted her teeth, but she knew Cat was right. She wasn’t an operator, just an observer. Nothing more.
For now.
“I called to wake you so you could go to the meet-and-greet at fourteen hundred hours.”
Charlie glanced at her watch and groaned. An hour until she had to mingle with strangers. “I hate small talk.”
“Welcome to the fun-filled world of being an operator,” Cat said.
“Will you guys be watching?”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got your six.”
“Do I need a wire?”
“Not right now. I’ll meet you there when we’re done. Gears is almost finished hacking into the hotel’s security feed. That should be enough for now.”
She hung up, took a shower, and changed into tailored pants and a light sweater. Smart, casual-ish, and she could still move if she needed to. Too bad the pants itched. And the pointy-toed shoes pinched her feet. She looked longingly at her jeans and boots.
Time to get to work. The conference registration package lay on the coffee table in front of the tiny couch in her room. She leafed through it. The meet-and-greet was on the third floor in the atrium. She fished out the lanyard with her nametag, grabbed a small cross-body purse to hold her phone and wallet, and left the room.
The elevator doors slid open and a tall, gorgeous man waited inside. His dark blond hair had a touch of wave, just enough to invite fingers to run through it. High cheekbones set off his strong chin. And his dark blue eyes held mischief.
“Are you coming on?” he asked. His deep voice had a wonderful, crisp British accent.
The elevator doors started to close. She blinked. The elevator. She leapt through before they shut her out. Her face heated and she stared at the stainless steel walls, trying to unsuccessfully ignore the man beside her. So hard to do since the elevator was covered in mirrors and she could see his smile out of the corner of her eye.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I was daydreaming.”
“It happens to the best of us,” he said. “I’m Logan Frost. I see you’re at the conference too.”
“How…” She nodded. “My lanyard.” What was wrong with her? Just because he had a pretty face her brain had decided to go on vacation? “I’m Charlotte Singh.”
His eyes widened. “Dr. Singh?”
She nodded.
“I know your work.”
She felt her face heat again. He knew her work? Who was this man? Had he been on the list of potential suspects? “Ummm, thank you,” she said finally.
His smile pulled one from her. “Are you a scientist?” she blurted out. “You don’t look like a scientist.” She almost closed her eyes. Was this her new pickup line? Was she going to tell every man she thought was good looking that he didn’t look like a scientist?
Wait. She thought the bodyguard was good looking?
“And what do I look like?” Logan’s crisp voice distracted her. It held secrets and amusement. At least he hadn’t been offended by her statement.
But was he flirting…with her? What kind of conversation had she gotten into? Thank God she didn’t have Cat and Dante listening in through a wire.
She swallowed hard. How long was this elevator ride anyway? “Like a movie star. Definitely not a scientist.”
He lau
ghed. “I would say the same about you, Dr. Singh.”
“Please. It’s Charlie.” She shook his hand. Nice firm grip. She hated when men shook her hand as if she had a broken wrist. “What’s your specialty?”
“I work for the government. I’m a simple project manager, nothing like the brains who come to this conference.”
She doubted that a simple project manager would be at this conference. If he worked for the government, then it was probably in a research capacity. And if he wasn’t talking about it, then he was in something secretive. And that just made her want to find out more.
She opened her mouth to question him when the doors opened.
He gestured for her to exit first and then followed. “So tell me about your work, Charlie.”
Dammit, he’d beaten her to the punch.
“Well, I work for a small security firm,” she said, giving the cover lie.
“And what does that entail?”
“I deal with the mechanical, electrical, magnetic, and chemical issues that come up.”
“Electrical I can see, but magnetic and chemical? How so?”
She probably shouldn’t have said that much. “Oh, it could be anything…like protective shielding from electromagnetic fields, or chemical protection suits and filtration devices.” Besides the weapons she routinely created, but she really shouldn’t mention that part.
“Fascinating,” he said. “So do you do much work with electromagnetic fields?”
“My fair share,” she said. “I know my way around them.” She smiled. He was actually interested in her work. That was a new experience for her. “Though I’m not here to speak about that. Actually, my talk deals with some micro-tech I’ve been working on for my company…for surveillance.”
He smiled that smile again. “I can’t wait.”
Definitely a flirtatious smile.
Two men in ill-fitting suits framed the entrance to the room holding the meet-and-greet. A woman stood to one side with a clipboard in hand. She verified their names on a list and waved them through.
The conference room wasn’t overly large, but held two long tables on either side against the walls where platters of appetizers waited. Little tea sandwiches, cheeses and crackers, veggies and fruit. All healthy.
Where was the chocolate?
A bar stood in the far corner beside a wall of windows that flooded the room with light. Charlie could see the Whitehall Gardens and, beyond that, the River Thames, while inside waiters with trays of more interesting appetizers and glasses of wine moved amongst the crowd.
“They have security?” she said to Logan, referencing the two men outside.
“Last year someone attempted to kidnap Dr. Levington.” He nodded to the thin, stoop-shouldered man with glasses that she suspected was the bodyguard’s body. He spoke with a group of equally staid men in sports coats.
“He’s a nuclear scientist,” Logan continued. “Apparently he brought his own bodyguard this year.”
Would he be a target again? It might be a benefit to meet him. And that thought had nothing to do with the hunky bodyguard standing off to the side still wearing his jeans and leather jacket. The bodyguard who even now stared back at her.
“Do you know what Dr. Levington is working on now?”
Logan snorted. “Apparently a portable nuclear weapon.”
She blinked. “What? Why would he be doing that?”
“His company does military contracts for the U.S.,” Logan said, as if that explained everything. “Would you like to meet him?”
“Yes, please.”
Logan led her toward Dr. Levington. He put a hand on her lower back to guide her. Her skin prickled just a bit and she didn’t question her need to step a bit quicker so he dropped his hand. The bodyguard stood just beyond the group of men, his back to a wall as he watched her. His gaze assessed Logan and then moved on to survey the crowd, dismissing them both.
She knew it was his job, but she couldn’t help but feel slighted.
Logan’s hand again touched her lower back, directing her to the circle around Dr. Levington. This time, she let it stay.
“Dr. Levington,” he said. “May I introduce you to Dr. Charlotte Singh?”
Dr. Levington extended his hand. “Dr. Singh. I hear you’ll be speaking about some kind of bug.” He barely touched her hand, holding it limply in his before dropping it. She tried not to grimace.
“Please. It’s Charlotte,” Charlie said. Logan raised his eyebrows and a small smile played on his lips. “And it’s a micro-technology I created. I haven’t had time to go through all of the seminars offered. Will you be speaking?”
Dr. Levington’s lips pressed together. “I’m the keynote speaker at the Awards Banquet.”
Oops. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be very entertaining.”
He straightened and his eyes narrowed as he assessed her.
Oh no. She’d seen this before. He was about to defend his ego. Either by puffing himself up, or pushing her down.
Logan dropped his hand from her back, as if to let her stand on her own.
“I’m sure you’ll find it entertaining,” Dr. Levington said, “but if you want to learn something, you should come to my seminar on nuclear physics. It’ll be very enlightening. But I have to tell you, honestly I don’t know many women who know enough nuclear physics to follow it.”
Pushing her down, it seemed. This was why she hated these things. The battle of who was smarter had begun.
She gave a small smile. If nothing else, she was confident in her brain and how smart she was. “I’m sure I have enough background to follow it,” she said sweetly. “I’m just not sure I’ll want to. You see, I enjoy learning about more of the innovative technologies. Nuclear physics is so… old fashioned. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dr. Levington’s eyes widened. “There is nothing old fashioned about nuclear physics. It is what explains everything in the universe. Its power is indisputable. Men fear it and—”
“Actually.” She lifted a finger. “Men fear other men. They’re the ones who push the buttons that send nuclear bombs flying. But you’re not the man with his finger on the button. So it’s not you they fear. Or your knowledge. You’re the person who creates the bomb, the person an ordinary man despises.”
The bodyguard against the wall coughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners just a bit. Something inside her warmed toward him.
“I don’t know who you think you are, Miss Singh,” Dr. Levington said. “I highly doubt you’re able to understand the intricacies of the work I do. Especially since you seem to be getting so emotional about it. Women tend to be that way, I’m afraid.”
Emotional? Outrage choked her words and thoughts. He hadn’t just gone there. Her hands clenched. Fuck. Where was her witty comeback?
“It’s Doctor Singh,” a gravelly voice said. The bodyguard. He’d moved quietly up beside her. “She’s an expert in her field the same as you. Treat her with respect.”
“Or what?” Dr. Levington said, his lip curling.
The bodyguard didn’t say anything, just stood and stared at Dr. Levington. His gaze hard and flat, almost cruel, like he’d dropped the mask of civility he wore and shown his true self.
Dr. Levington swallowed hard and took a small step back.
“Apologize.” The bodyguard’s voice was quiet but final.
Dr. Levington’s gaze snapped to her. “I’m sorry.”
Her savior’s brows drew together.
“I’m sorry…Dr. Singh.”
The bodyguard nodded and went back to his position by the wall. No one spoke, but their gazes went from him to her. Dr. Levington’s eyes narrowed on her and spoke of retribution. She straightened her shoulders and gave a sharp nod before walking away.
Logan stayed behind, speaking with Dr. Levington. She just shook her head. The man might be nice to look at, but anyone who enjoyed Dr. Douchebag’s company wasn’t someone she wanted to get to know.
She passed by the bodyguard on h
er way. “I feel sorry for you.”
He stiffened. “What do you mean by that, Sherlock?”
Great, now she’d offended him. “I meant, that I’m sorry you have to work for such an ass.”
The man’s shoulder’s relaxed and he smiled. “He really is a complete wanker.”
“A what?”
A smile tugged at his lips and it fascinated her. “It’s on par with arsehole.”
“Then wanker. That’s exactly what he is.” She grinned. “What’s your name?” She couldn’t keep thinking of him as the bodyguard.
His smile disappeared. “Does it matter?”
She shrugged and stood beside him, scanning the crowd with him. “You’re the most interesting person here. The rest of them have divided up into cliques like we’re in high school.”
A waiter walked by and offered them wine. The bodyguard-she really wanted a name-declined, and she took a glass of white. Its crisp flavor soothed the tightness in her throat.
“High school?” Bodyguard finally asked. “Are you going to explain?”
She covered her smile with a sip of wine. “Only if you tell me your name.”
He sighed. “Jack.”
She tried not to take that sigh personally. She pointed to the group of staid-looking men that Dr. Levington still spoke with.
“Our cliques aren’t quite as obvious as high school ones, but I’ll try to point out what’s here. It might help with your job, actually.”
His eyebrows raised, so she explained. “If someone comes in who doesn’t fit one of the profiles, then that person goes to the top of the suspect list.”
“Suspect for what?”
Oh, crap. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“I meant suspicious. Add them to your suspicious-persons list.” She pointed to Dr. Levington and the group of men surrounding him. “They’re the true nerds of this group. Classic, old-school thinking and ideology. And stuffy tweed suits. Most are professors.”
“The Wanker isn’t.”
She bit her lip to stop her smile. “Excellent point. But he’s only recently been hired away from Oxford. He’s still in the nerd herd. Besides, the patches on the elbows of his jacket say it all.”
