Tropical Safeguard (Men Of The Secret Service)

by Stella Kelly

  “Wow, this place is awesome!” Jimmy hopped up and down in his seat. His eleven-year-old energy was palpable.

  “Not a bad home-away-from-home,” Secretary Mitchell said. He looked over at the nanny, Trudy, and she nodded eagerly.

  “It certainly beats the snow,” she said with a warm smile.

  “You’ve been here before, haven’t you Dad?” Jimmy strained to look at his surroundings with excitement.

  “Yes, son, with your Mom quite a while ago when Mr. and Mrs. Winters first had the place built.”

  Cole noticed the man’s attempt to hide his melancholy for his son’s sake, wondering if being here would be difficult for The Secretary emotionally, having lost his wife three years ago.

  “Mom must have loved it. Can we swim lots?”

  “Sure. And lots of golfing too, right?”

  “Right!”

  “I’d love to teach you a few things about the game.”

  “Can you teach me how to surf too?” Jimmy asked.

  “Um, well, we’ll see, Jimmy. I don’t think your old man can even get to a standing position on a surfboard, but I’m always willing to try anything once. Especially if you want me to.”

  “Cool, I knew you’d be up for it, Dad!” Jimmy bounced and patted Secretary Mitchell on the shoulder.

  Cole found Jimmy’s energy amusing and refreshing. He seemed so authentic and genuine. Cole had met other privileged children along the way and this boy wasn’t spoiled in the least. Other’s seemed to possess a sense of entitlement, but Jimmy was different. Secretary Mitchell had done a great job in raising him under the circumstances of his wealth and celebrity – and in the absence of a mother.

  The SUVs came to rest at the top of a roundabout beside the mansion’s entrance. Getting out, Cole stood aside, looking around at the immediate area to take in the surroundings as he waited for Trudy to exit. She looked about his age, with naturally wavy auburn hair and little if any make-up. She was elegant in her simplicity none-the-less and Cole wondered how long she’d been looking after Jimmy. She smiled at him and gawked around in awe of the mansion’s beauty. Turning, she helped Jimmy out of the truck and handed him his backpack.

  “Don’t forget your hat, Sweetie,” she said, passing it to him.

  Jimmy scratched his head before yanking the hat on snuggly. He slipped his arms through the straps of the backpack. He wore faded jeans, a purple tee shirt, and sneakers. He too looked around inquisitively, and then his eyes came to rest on Cole. “Wow, you’re big!” His candidness caught Cole off guard and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m gonna eat whatever you eat if it means I get to be that tall one day. How tall are you anyway?”

  “Six-four. Just keep doing what you’re doing, kid,” Cole advised.

  Secretary Mitchell was the last to leave the vehicle. Cole swept the area with his eyes, following procedure, and watched as the slight man walked toward the house. He nodded at Cole as he went, unmistakably uncomfortable with the level of security on this family holiday. Secretary Mitchell had apologized for inconveniencing the Secret Service twice while en route from the airport. Cole had tried to put him at ease, assuring him it was his pleasure to keep them safe.

  The group congregated in the main foyer and then traveled up the grand staircase to the bedrooms while Cole remained in the foyer with Agent Kensing. Cole could sense his partner’s growing anxiety.

  “What’d the briefing say?” Agent Kensing asked curtly.

  “Staff quarters are behind the kitchen.”

  “Seems a little far from our assignments if you ask me.”

  Cole shrugged, not quite sure how to answer. He could already tell working with Agent Kensing was going to be work itself. As they passed through the kitchen, the tremendous smell of cooking hit them like a blow to the senses. Cole’s mouth began to water at the prospect of lunch.

  Finally alone in his fair-sized room, Cole set his small black suitcase down on the double bed. Unzipping the edges, he flipped the top back to expose the meticulously packed clothes. He gently lifted each piece from the case and laid them into the open dresser drawer. He hung the linen button-downs up with care, aware that he would have to iron them later this evening when he traded off with Agent Kensing. Having gone to private schools for most of his life, the precision of personal grooming was ingrained. Cole took pride in his appearance. His parents had hoped he would pursue a career in law or politics – but he’d had other plans. He’d fallen in love with the idea of the Green Berets and the Secret Service since reading his very first adventure book as a boy. Fighting crime wasn’t just for superheroes.

  Cole’s unpacking was interrupted by a brief knock. Without waiting for an answer, Agent Kensing opened the door and stood in the frame. “We should do a briefing recap and walk the perimeter while everyone’s getting settled in. We need a lay of the land.” Once again, it was a demand.

  “Yes, of course, Tom,” Cole said casually.

  Agent Kensing held up a hand. “No, not good…” he paused, closing his eyes briefly and sneering. “The name’s Thomas. I detest Tom. In fact, let’s make it Agent Kensing so people around here understand our level of professionalism.”

  Cole noted the man’s eagle-eyed stare. His eyes were piercingly blue, like steel. He was weathered, yet his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders indicated a man who was once a force to be reckoned with. Internally chuckling at his unnecessary intensity, Cole agreed.

  “Good. Follow me then. I think we should start at the front and work our way around the back.”

  “And then we can break for lunch,” Cole interjected.

  “The entourage will eat first, we’ll eat in shifts.”

  Cole bit his lip. Who did this guy think he was? Cole usually had assignments with men who knew him better than anyone; men who knew the way he would operate before he did, his team. The lack of familiarity made working with a stranger an incredible strain on his patience.

  They retraced their steps and began their sweep at the front door. After checking the location of each outdoor surveillance camera, each motion-detector, and each exit, the agents got into a golf cart. With Agent Kensing at the wheel they rounded the outskirts of the property checking for anything suspicious. Cole found the entire procedure arduous, but he also knew it was necessary. This was, after all, an assignment – even if Agent Kensing executed overkill.

  They crossed the green golf course at the back of the mansion, weaving their way toward the pristine water. Located on ten acres of prime oceanfront land, the property had its own private beach in a sheltered alcove with natural rocky walls. As the agents skirted the alcove’s edge, Cole looked down and spotted two figures sitting cross-legged in the sand. “Two people, down below,” he said over the drone of the cart’s motor. Agent Kensing aligned the golf cart with the switchback staircase that led to the beach.

  “Do you mind checking it out? My back’s not what it used to be and that’s a lot of stairs.”

  “Sure,” Cole said, keeping the peace. Hopping out, he made his way down as the blazing sun beat on his head and shoulders. With Agent Prickly’s impatience, he hadn’t had time to change out of his suit and sweat trickled uncomfortably down his collar. The wide cedar stairs were weathered and smelled aromatic is the baking sunshine as he gripped the rail and moved onward. Stepping onto the soft golden sand, he felt the grains seep in between the laces of his dress shoes, which were now covered in a fine dust he’d have to contend with later. Being from Manhattan, he was more at home on asphalt and concrete than on a beach.

  In the distance, the two women sat facing each other. Their eyes were closed and their hands rested in their laps. As Cole walked toward them, the older woman facing him opened her eyes and leaned over to speak to the woman with her back to him. Craning around with interest, the woman stared, but the sun was in her eyes. Cole watched as she stood up and turned to face him. She began walking toward him, keeping her hand across her face to block the sun’s glare. As she drew closer, his mouth f
ell open at the oncoming vision, her beauty catching him completely off guard. He admired her petite, lithe frame as she walked with purpose and met him halfway. They stopped within arms length of each other and she brought her hand down. Her gorgeous face was naturally sun-kissed with freckles and she had an air of effortless elegance about her. Cole was instantly drawn to her magnetism. Cute, yet sexy – a lethal combo.

  “Yes?” she said.

  Not exactly the introduction he’d expected. She seemed leery, cautious. Cole’s gaze slid down the length of her body, really noticing her, and she visibly squirmed in discomfort. “Miss, I’m Agent Nielsen and that’s my partner, Agent Kensing.” Cole absently pointed toward the cliff.

  She looked up, spotting the golf cart. “Okay, hello,” she said abrasively.

  Affronted, Cole tried to fix things. “Sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself and meet the staff. We’re following protocol by sweeping the grounds.”

  “Oh,” Katrina nodded. “Okay. Carry on then.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said carry on. I’m sorry, did I say the wrong thing?” Katrina stood a little taller, staring him down through squinted eyes.

  For the first time in as long as he could remember, Cole was at a loss for words. He wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed like this. Usually people were on their best behavior around the agents, cooperating to the fullest and trying to portray themselves as good citizens. Cole always came away from an experience with the average person feeling superior without even trying to be. Not this time. From the moment she spoke, this spitfire was in command. For such a tiny person, she brimmed with confidence. And her beauty – he had never seen anyone so beautiful, ever, and Cole had met his share of beautiful wealthy women. There was something about her that seemed familiar, kinetic.

  “Agent Nielsen?” she asked.

  Cole suddenly realized he was gawking. She stared back, probably thinking he were a few bricks short of a load. “Uh, huh?” he said.

  “I’m going back then,” she thumbed over her shoulder. “Is that it?”

  “Yes, yes, sorry.” He watched her turn and saunter away, feeling foolish. When he finally snapped out of his trance, he realized he hadn’t asked their names. Since the women were seated in the sand again, he thought it best to save the rest of his inquisition for later. The last thing he wanted to do was anger the sexy brunette. Then again, it may be interesting to see her reaction. He always like watching fireworks. Instead, Cole climbed the stairs and stood beside the golf cart. He looked back at the women, running a strong hand through his fair hair, lost in thought.

  “Well, who are they?” Agent Kensing asked as Cole took his seat.

  “Just staff. Nothing of interest.” Though Cole was very interested indeed. “And?” Agent Kensing also looked at Cole as if he were a little slow. Cole didn’t answer. “And?” he asked again more forcefully.

  “And they were in the middle of something. Some sort of meditation session.”

  “Names?”

  Cole looked at Agent Kensing who had pulled away from the cliff and was driving back toward the mansion. The veteran agent’s lips were thin and pursed as if he were disappointed in Cole’s lack of information. The man had a knack for making him feel inadequate and this was only the first day of their assignment. Cole was a grown man for goodness sake and an excellent agent, so he’d been told. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment from Agent Prickly. Hell no. Cole turned slightly to face his colleague, his tone conveying his frustration. “Listen, they’re staff. I didn’t get their names. They were in the middle of something.”

  “Easy, Agent Nielsen, easy. I’m just asking. I saw you talking to one of them. She looked quite approachable from where I was sitting. Not a bad view from that distance. How was the view up close?”

  Cole was annoyed by Agent Kensing’s sudden shift in questioning. He’d softened his approach, perhaps realizing he’d been unnecessarily harsh. Choosing not to engage him, Cole looked in the other direction and ignored the question. This left Agent Kensing laughing aloud, his smokers cackle echoing over the lawn. He’d officially gotten under Cole’s skin.

  Back at the mansion, Cole jumped out of the golf cart as it came to a stop in the designated spot. “I’m heading in for lunch,” he said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

  “I’ll join you,” Agent Kensing walked at his heels. “Then we can discuss shifts.”

  “Fine.”

  They opened the side door and the heavenly smell they’d experienced on their arrival had intensified. Cole was down right starving. They passed through the hallway and as they did, Cole noticed the dignitaries and their families through the window that overlooked a sprawling patio. The Deputy and his wife were seated across from Secretary Mitchell and Jimmy with the other two boys at either end of the table. The group had already started their meal.

  Cole and Agent Kensing continued on toward the kitchen. Turning the corner, they arrived to find Damien the chauffeur and George the groundskeeper sitting at a long harvest table. A robust man with a flushed face was moving back and forth behind the island serving up their plates.

  “Ah, the agent men have arrived. Bonjour! I am Jacque, the chef for the Winters. Please, have a seat.”

  Both agents nodded, slipping into the nearest chairs. They introduced themselves to the three men.

  “Where is the other driver?” Agent Kensing questioned Damien.

  “He was just hired for the pick-up. He lives down the street with his family and is called if needed.”

  “And how long have you been employed here?” Agent Kensing asked George, the elderly groundskeeper, as he tucked in his chair.

  “Nine years, since the Winters first arrived,” George responded in his Bermudian accent as if on cue. The weathered old man sat up taller, probably feeling like he’d entered the military. Cole shook his head. “I come up to the house once in a while for a meal. Most times I stay in my little house out the way there.”

  “That’s your place at the corner of the property?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it secure?” Agent Kensing was on a roll.

  Cole shook his head again. He could see the atmosphere in the room turn from relaxed to uptight thanks to his colleague. “Thomas, perhaps we should let this information present itself over lunch.”

  Agent Kensing shot Cole a look of surprise. “I’m just doing my job here, Agent Nielsen.”

  “Okay, men, lunch is served.” Jacque approached the table and placed warm plates in front of the agents. He hoped the action would clear the air. “I’ve told the ladies to be on time, but they are not here, so we eat.”

  As soon as Jacque spoke the words, the side door opened and the two women from the beach walked in.

  “Ah, and they are here.” Jacque wagged a finger at the spitfire, clucking his tongue.

  “Sorry we’re a little late,” she said, walking around the island. She quickly washed her hands.

  Cole felt that pull again as his eyes followed her despite his efforts to look away. He was grateful for the activity going on around them. Perhaps no one would notice him stare. She took a seat at the harvest table opposite him and he felt his stomach lurch at her proximity. How was he supposed to eat when confronted with such a stunning view?

  <><><>

  Katrina felt the tall agent’s eyes on her. On the beach, he’d been visibly uncomfortable in his suit as he’d tugged at his collar, sticking out like a sore thumb – a masculine, mythological god of a sore thumb. In the bright backdrop, he looked like a modern day Thor. The sun’s brilliance had made his fair hair look angelic and golden. She’d had put a hand up to cover her face again – to get a better look.

  Katrina glanced around before finally bringing her gaze squarely on him. Their eyes locked and she held his lengthy stare as if challenging him until he looked away. As he did, she continued her visual scan. She found him extremely attractive. Even so, her first impression on the beach caused her some apprehensive. He
’d been distant, a man of few words, and his eyes had overtly devoured her. Despite his good looks, she couldn’t trust him, even if he was a secret service agent. He was also a man, and men weren’t to be trusted, especially strangers.

  Katrina pulled in her chair and unfolded her cloth napkin, fully aware of his eyes on her again. She felt the energy, the draw, and it forced an unexpected flutter in her belly. “Agents,” she said while draping her napkin over her lap. She stared back briefly until he looked down at his plate, a small trace of a smile pulling at the corners of his full mouth. Thor. Why did this comparison stick? And yet, what was it? After closer inspection, there was something about him that seemed vulnerable, as if a layer of discretion hid beneath the surface. He seemed much more polished and preppy than on the beach earlier.

  “Where were you two?” Damien asked her between mouthfuls.

  “I was giving Gloria a stress-relieving meditation session. She just learned her daughter’s in love so it’s game over.”

  Damien laughed. “My daughter’s only ten and she says she’s in love with a boy in her class. They grow up so fast.”

  “You’re telling me!” Gloria sighed. “My husband says it’s only a matter of time before I’m a Gammy.”

  “A Gammy? No way, not yet,” George chuckled.

  “Trust me, I don’t want to be a grandmother yet. I’m not even fifty.”

  “Hold on guys, let’s change the subject. I can see the stress reappearing on her lovely face,” Katrina joked as Jacque put a plate in front of her. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “Smells fabulous, Jacque!” Opening her eyes, she looked up and found the handsome agent staring at her again, but this time with an unmistakable intensity. She’d seen men look at her like that before, many times. She straightened and cleared her throat, his attentive stare making her squirm. She didn’t take too kindly to strange men ogling her, even if he was drop-dead gorgeous. These days, she considered that kind of attention invasive.